Wolf Hunt
by Mordraugsereg
Summary: It's been a month since Peter was killed and Derek became Alpha. Stiles has been trying to deal with Scott but with little success. Now they've got to find a way to co-exist together.
1. The Beginning

Stiles knew this was not going to turn out well.

He had gone to Scott's expecting to convince the boy that it wouldn't do any good moping around about the loss of killing Peter himself and possibly being turned back into a normal everyday teenager. Derek himself had said that it might not work. There was nothing that Stiles would put past the older were to do to get back at the Alpha for killing his one and only conscious family member. If it meant lying to Scott to get his help in taking down Peter, Stiles had had no doubt that Derek wouldn't lose a night's sleep over it.

As it was, when he had arrived at Scott's, his friend had been lying on his bed, face smothered in a pillow, dead to the world except for the faint whimpering that sounded from him. It had been a rather pathetic sight and Stiles had made no move to hide what he had thought his friend was doing to himself. The way Scott had been acting, even before the death of the Alpha, it was like the world was about to end and there was nothing he could do about.

"Dude, Scott, you need to snap out of it. This is not the end of the world. Sure, you're a freaking werewolf for the rest of your life. Get over it. There are worse things in life." That's what he had said to the teen on the bed. He had felt the pent up anger rising in his system, egging him on to say more, but he had pushed it away not wanting to bring the wolf out of his friend. Having not received a response from Scott, he had walked forward and punched his friend in the back. That had earned a growl, but nothing more. As he had stared down at the shirtless back of his friend, a plan had started to form and pulled a groan from his throat.

And that was why Stiles was now driving at break neck speeds down the road thinking things were not going to end so well for him. He had taken the plan that had popped into his head, and ran with it. It didn't matter that he had put himself in danger, just that he get some kind of response from his friend.

A thud on the roof of his jeep pulled Stiles from his thoughts of what had happened a mere 10 minutes before and into the here and now. A feral growl was whistling on the wind that seeped in around his door and he tried pushing the gas pedal down farther, only to discover that it was already against the floor. A curse slipped from his lips as he swerved the jeep onto the dirt path that wound its way through the Hale property. The distinct sound of claws on metal had him cringing for the safety of his baby, but it was a fleeting thought as he saw the Beta fly off the roof and roll across the forest floor, his back slamming into a tree with the force of a charging rhino behind the hit. If he hadn't know about werewolves and their tendency to heal themselves, he would have stopped to check on the creature, but he was well informed on that front and left his best friend behind him, a 'sorry, Scott' slipping from between his clenched teeth.

It was only a few short minutes later that Stiles saw the burnt house coming into view. His plan would only work if the new Alpha was home and not looking to kill either of them. Slamming on the break and skidding, thankfully not rolling, to a stop, Stiles left the vehicle on and raced up the steps, using hands to propel himself faster towards the door that stood ajar in front of him.

Without breaking his run, he slammed the front door the rest of the way open and darted into the dark house. Breathing heavily, he tried to speak, but the words weren't coming. He had to find Derek before Scott gained ground on him again. Making a quick circuit of the first floor and not seeing the brooding male in any of the destroyed rooms, he darted up the steps, two, sometimes three steps at a time, and made his way from room to room. His panic was starting to grow to hyperventilating proportions as he came to the realization that if Derek had been home he would have already come to see what all the commotion was about.

Not dwelling on that thought until he had checked the entire second floor, Stiles raced from each bedroom, bathroom, and storage closet that he came across. They were all empty of life. Dust was settled on all surfaces that it could get too, covering everything in a layer of grey snow. Only one of three bathrooms that he had checked was free of the dust. Now that he was standing in front of the last door on the second floor it only stood to reason that this one would also be free of the grey blanket. He was nervous about intruding on Derek's personal space, knowing that is would more than likely cause him more pain once he got himself out of the situation he had put himself in at the present moment.

Taking a deep breath, he put caution to the wind and threw the door open, walking into the large room and finding the space clean. There was a double sized bed pushed against the far wall, made of black sheets and matching pillows. Rolling his eyes at the sight, he scanned the rest of the room to see a closet full of the owner's favorite attire, dark jeans and white tees, a small chest pushed into a corner so that it was hidden in the shadows, lock firmly in place, and a pile of books in the middle of the room. Out of everything, the books threw Stiles off his game and jump started his ADD. What would the wolf read? He didn't look to be the type to read those raunchy romantic types of books or sci-fi books. Hell, he didn't look the type to read books in general.

What sounded like a mix between a howl and an enraged scream made Stiles dive farther into the room, slamming the door closed with his foot. _Shit! Where am I to go now?_ He looked to the closet first and decided against that. It was too obvious. Running to the opened window next to the bed, he looked out only to discover that it was a straight drop to the ground below. _Damn werewolf abilities!_ The only other option he could see was a small gap under Derek's bed. It seemed too narrow for him to slip under, but he knew he could do it. It was a habit of his as a kid to fit himself into places no one thought possible. Take, for example, one year when his mom and he had been playing hide-and-seek. It took her five hours to find him. He had tucked himself away in a carry on suitcase and had fallen asleep in the dark space. Now that hobby of his would serve to protect him. Hopefully.

Just as he pulled his foot under the bed, he heard the sound of footsteps on the stairs. He squeezed his eyes closed and hoped that being in the Alpha's den would protect him. Werewolves were territorial beings, weren't they? Not to mention that a Beta in an Alpha's room seemed to make as little sense as a vampire and a human hooking up. It didn't seem right or natural. But then again, what was natural anymore? The supernatural had become a constant in Stiles' life and he wasn't too keen on letting it be the undoing of said life.

The distinct sound of sniffing had Stiles' breath hitching in his lungs and a sudden calm to fall over his heart. He wasn't sure what had made it calm down so much, but he was thankful for it because he didn't want to see the muscle mass pulled from his living body after giving away his hiding place. He waited with baited breath as the door to Derek's room slowly slid open, slipping his eyes open and seeing a familiar pair of shoes coming into view. It was Scott. The Beta-were had found him. The disembodied shoes slowly walked into the room, a small whine sounding from the body connected to them.

Stiles fear was momentarily replaced by confusion. What had Beta-Scott so scared that he was actually whimpering and whining? As the thought hit him, he heard an angry snarl from outside the house and the noises from his friend doubled as he ran out the door and down the stairs. A brief moment later and there was a pained howl followed by a triumphant growl ripping through Stiles' ears. The Alpha was apparently home and not in the mood for a wolfed out Scott. Scrambling out from under the bed, he closed the door behind himself as he left the room and slowly made his way to the top of the stairs.

He could still hear the painful noises coming from his friend, but they were morphing into more human noises. Before long, the howl was no more than pained gasps and wheezing as Scott, probably now human, was on the ground at the mercy of a pissed off Alpha Derek. He thought about rushing down the steps to stop Derek from hurting Scott more but this was what Scott needed. He needed to feel, period. Stiles didn't care if it was pain, sorrow, grief, fear, love, hurt, anger, or any other emotion, physical or otherwise, he just knew his friend needed to feel something besides the all-encompassing depression he had sunk into.

He also didn't care if Scott hated him when he finally realized that it was Stiles' plan all along to bring him here, even if he hadn't meant for it to be today of all days. Even if Derek did take away a possible chance to become human again, Scott still needed to learn to control his inner beast. Now more than ever since there was no turning back. Shaking his head, he calmly made his way down the stairs and to the front door. It was standing wide open, allowing him to quietly exit the house and stand, shoulder against one of the porch posts, and watch the Alpha and the Beta.

It hadn't really been a fight at all. As he had suspected, being the Alpha now made entering his den unacceptable and that was why Scott had been scared back up in Derek's room and why, at the sound of his snarl, the Beta had fled the Alpha's room and home. It just happened to be too late an exit to avoid a fisted hand to the stomach and a kick to the side after he was down. Now Derek was standing over Scott, his usual glare in place and fixed on Scott. No trace of the Alpha phase was visible on the older boy, but with the added boost of actually being an Alpha, Stiles didn't think he needed the shift to take down Scott.

Glancing to his friend, he winced in pain. Scott was on his forearms and knees, head resting on the ground. Blood seemed to be dripping from where Derek had punched him, probably slashed as well, and he had a giant bruise on his back. That could only have been caused by his trip into that tree. It covered the whole of his back, showing only pink skin up around his shoulder blades. Guilt started to seep into his heart as he stared, knowing that the hit had caused Scott's back to break and internal organs to rupture. The healing had to of been painful, if the boy had even been conscious through it.

A hand fisting the front of his shirt and a feral snarl brought Stiles' wandering mind to the Alpha in front of him. "Why are you here?" The words were spit out through clenched teeth and a brief flash of blue showed in the otherwise dark eyes in front of him.

Rubbing the back of his neck, Stiles wasn't sure what to tell Derek. The truth would be best but that was so convoluted in Stiles' mind that he couldn't think of what it was. "Well, you see…." He trailed off as the fist tightened in his shirt. Derek brought his face close to Stiles', teeth starting to turn to fangs. "I don't know!" he finally blurted out. "I went to Scott's to get him to do something. He's been holed up in his room for too fucking long that I wanted to get a reaction from him. _ANY_ reaction," he stressed. "He didn't do anything when I punched him. I resorted to taunting him about Allison leaving him and going to someone normal, someone that wasn't a werewolf. That seemed to get a small rise out of him but all he did was roll over onto his back. So, I stabbed him. I came prepared and when nothing else I did worked, even kissing him, I stabbed the bastard."

The hand that had his shirt released its grip and pulled Stiles by the back of his neck off the porch and to his friend, anger still fueling his system. "Then what caused that?" Derek was pointing at the giant bruise on Scott's back.

Stiles had the decency to look properly guilty. "He was on the roof of my jeep when I turned a particularly sharp bend on my way here. He flew off and hit a tree. It gave me enough time to get here and hide. After searching your house for you, that is."

Derek's hand slipped from Stiles' neck and went to rub his face before shooting a killer glare at Stiles than down at Scott. The Beta had made no move to get up after he had been taken down. It appeared he was lapsing back into his depression. Stiles thought he saw the older were shake his head; it could have been a figment of his imagination as it was such a small gesture, before kneeling down and placing a hand on the back of Scott's neck.

In mute fascination, Stiles watched as Derek's claws extended and sunk into the back of Scott's exposed neck. He knew what was happening, that Derek was showing him something, but it was still alarming to see his friend's body start to convulse as the foreign images raced through his mind. It lasted for only a few seconds, and when the teen's body stopped shaking, he slowly rolled onto his back, wincing at the pain. His blank eyes slowly came into focus, first on Derek's hovering body, then shifting to rest on Stiles. "Why are you both looking at me like I'm a homeless puppy that's on the verge of death?" he crocked out.

Stiles scoffed and pushed Derek out of the way. He felt rather than saw him stiffen and shoot him a glare, but ignored it to check on Scott. He placed a hand on the other boy's forehead. "You've got a slight fever, but I think it's because your body is working in over drive trying to fix itself."

"And why would it need to fix itself? What happened?"

It was hard to hold back the laugh that wanted to erupt out of his chest, but Stiles managed to keep it out of his voice and off his face. Scott had looked so innocent asking his questions that it reminded Stiles of a time when they both were young and oblivious to the hurt and anguish in the world. It made Stiles feel all the more guilty for having hurt his friend, brother, really. Not wanting to answer, he stood and hoisted a protesting Scott up and onto his feet. He felt the hand he was holding tense to a painful grip, faintly aware that he felt at least one bone shift out of place at an odd angle, and kept the pain behind a mask of concern. "Well, buddy, we have to get you somewhere so that you can have a proper werewolf meal so that you can heal faster."

A deliberate clearing of a throat had Stiles turning his head to look over his shoulder. "And what would you know about werewolf healing?" The question was one not heard from the Alpha before. He usually just let the two friends do as they pleased, not concerned about what they did or knew about werewolf lore. His glare was gone and instead he had a genuine inquisitive look upon his features.

Clearing his own throat as he turned back towards his jeep and slowly moved towards it, Scott in tow, "If you must know, I've not been researching werewolves for the past two months just for fun. I've invested my time mostly on website browsing, but I've also done my research and ordered some books that are more accurate than anything else I've come across." Letting the comment hang in the air, he sped up the pace and made it to the jeep. After helping Scott into the passenger seat, he calmly walked back over to the Alpha, some of his pent up anger surfacing again. "And if you had actually invested any time into helping Scott in the first place this probably never would have happened. The only reason he seems to want this _curse,_ as he calls it, gone is because he is madly in love with Allison." _For some odd strange reason_, he wanted to add, but didn't. He could see the shock clearly on the elder wolfs face, but he paid little attention to it. Now that he was saying it, he couldn't stop. "And for that matter, why not use her to help him. She somehow or other soothes the beast in him, making him not shift. Have you ever thought that she actually makes him stronger? That having that connection to her is helping him?"

A hand covering his mouth had Stiles stopping. Derek's shocked look was back to being pissed off and annoyed at the teen in front of him. "I've tried my best with him. He's too distrac…"

"Bullshit!" Stiles had kicked the wolf in the shin and ducked out of the surprised werewolf's hold. "You tried just about as hard as you cared too. Killing the Alpha never would have saved him, would it? As we see with you, you became the next Alpha. What, in killing the Alpha, would have turned him back? The bite changes the genetics of the person bitten. Killing the one that bit you would do nothing!" Stiles didn't give Derek a chance to respond as he stomped back to his jeep, hopped in, threw the clutch into drive, and tore out of the driveway and back towards town.

It took him longer to reach his destination than it did to get to Derek's house even though it was closer than his own house in relation to Derek's. His dad was going to kill him if he found out about his race through town. There was nothing he could say to the man to keep him from blowing up. It was in his fatherly, and town sheriff, right to do so, but it still brought him little relief.

As he pulled into the small diner, Stiles looked to Scott. His friend hadn't said a word the whole trip. He hadn't even moved. His eyes were focused on something outside the window, but in front of anything he was truly seeing. It was a creepy look that spoke of unhinged minds and crazy intentions. Sighing, he put his hand on Scott's shoulder. "Are you okay, Scott?" He didn't mean in the physical sense, but in the emotional one.

Stiles felt like he was having an out of body experience. First he was deliberately provoking a newly turned werewolf, then he was practically pushing around a born werewolf, one that happened to be an Alpha on top of that, and now he was at a loss of words asking stupid ass questions. Shaking his head at his own lack of knowing what to do, he reached into the back seat and pulled out a shirt for his friend. He had to manually put the shirt on Scott, thank the gods it was a button up or it would have been more awkward then it already was. Then he went for the wet wipes he had stashed under his seat. At times like these he liked that his brain made him think of everything; after his first run in with claws he had bought the wipes to wash away any bloody evidence. Quickly washing off the dirt, blood, and sweat from his friends face he was satisfied that he was finally able to take him into the diner.

A few minutes later found him and Scott seated at a small booth in the back corner of the diner. The place was dimly lit and brightly colored. The booth seats were a red shimmery vinyl that made clean up's easy and hot weather a literal pain in the ass. The walls were an egg white wash that seemed to be hiding a coat of blue underneath. There were pictures hanging on every surface of past celebrities and musicians. If he cared he could probably name every one of them.

Having already ordered a burger and curly fries for himself and a rather raw steak for the other occupant of the table, he let his mind wander. From what he knew about werewolves and what he had read in some of the books, a healing wolf needed to feed on food that was more to the wolfs liking than to the humans. It all boiled down to the fact that the wolf was the one doing the healing for the human. If the wolf was weak and injured, so was the human. He still didn't fully understand the concept of whether it worked both ways. If the human was injured, was the wolf? If the human half died, would the wolf be able to bring it back? It was a never ending cycle of if's and questions that Stiles saw no end in sight. It was all just too much for his already hyperactive mind.

Rubbing the exhaustion off his face, he was surprised to see his food sitting in front of him. Glancing at Scott he noticed that the wolf hadn't touched his food either. Shoving a handful of the curly fries into his mouth, he grabbed the plate with the steak on it and cut it into bite sized pieces. The blood that oozed out of it made him gag, but it was all for the wellbeing of his friend. The fact that it was a little warm from the stove made it a little more believable that this was a freshly killed animal rather than a previously frozen hunk of meat.

Stabbing one of the bits, he held it in front of Scott. Smirking, he grabbed his own fork and stabbed his friend in the hand. The tongs sunk into the skin and he saw blood starting to ooze out just as if it had been another piece of meat being cut to pieces. His effort was rewarded when Scott's mouth flew open in a snarl, the sound being smothered by the piece of meat shoved into his mouth. As the juices from the tiny bite seeped out and into the mouth of the wolf, and down its chin, Stiles was amazed at how fast the distant look was replaced by a set of yellow eyes and hard features before settling on brown and relaxed.

The fork he had lodged into the hand on the table was abruptly yanked from his grip and set on the table followed by a muffled, "What are you doing?"

Stiles was so ecstatic that he about cried. He could feel the tears welling up, but not spilling over. Recovering quickly, he pushed Scott's plate back in his direction as he removed his hand from the fork in Scott's mouth. Before he could think, his mouth started running. "I'm SO sorry, Scott. I was just trying to help. You've been depressed for the past month, wasting away to nothing and I couldn't stand it anymore! I didn't mean to hurt you but it was the only way to get you to react. I had to stab you. Then there's the throwing you into a tree. Oh my god! I could have killed you!" His rambling seemed to go on and on, never letting up even when the waitress swung around to refill their waters.

It wasn't until Scott gave Stiles' own shin a kick under the table that the boy shut-up. "What are you talking about? I'm not hurt? And how can you possibly have thrown me into a tree so bad that my back would have broken?"

And it was true, as Stiles looked over his friend, the pale skin was gone. He was holding himself up and looking around as if wondering how he had gotten to the small diner. Moving over next to his friend, he pulled the back of Scott's shirt up and saw smooth, unmarred skin underneath. Whistling low, he moved back to his own side and took a few more bites of his food. Apparently his reading had paid off. "To start off, I didn't throw you into a tree. My jeep did. I was the one behind the wheel though. Secondly, you _were_ hurt. I think the hit with the tree broke your back and ruptured something inside. The bruise you had was not a nice one. Not to mention the punch Derek landed on you." He scarfed down half his burger before going on. "And dude, I am sorry, but you're going to have to start meeting with Derek. I'm not giving you an option. The bastard needs to take responsibility as do you."

"For what? I wasn't the one who asked to be bitten?" Stiles could see the frustration swimming in Scott's eyes. "This isn't what I wanted and I'm not going along with it. There is no way you can force me to go."

If he had been human, Stiles had no doubt that Scott could stop him from forcing the Beta to the Alpha. Now that he knew at least one of the tricks in his most recent book was accurate, he was planning on trying out one of the others. He'd have to wait to get the right materials, but if it worked, Scott could do little more than whine and beg to be let free. "For now I can't make you go. Give me time and I'll find a way."

The groan that escaped his friend was enough to let him know that he would be fine. It was with a sense of relief that they finished their meals, Scott having ordered a second steak on the medium to well-done side, and left the diner. Stiles dropped Scott off at his house without worrying that his friend wouldn't survive the night. He had finally done something useful.

The five minute drive to his own house was enough to have the weight of the day's events crash down upon him. His eyes didn't want to stay open and his hand was faintly starting to throb. He didn't quite remember why and he didn't really care at the moment. Parking his car outside the garage, he stumbled his way into the house and up the stairs. Without changing his clothes, he let his body fall onto his bed, sleep consuming his consciousness before his head even hit the pillows.


	2. Revelations

Stiles wasn't sure what was worse, the pounding in his hand or the pounding on his door. Both meant nothing good and he wasn't too sure he wanted to know about either thing. Groaning awake, he rolled out of bed and landed in a squat on the floor. Stretching to his full height, arms above his head, a yawn pulled itself from his tired frame as he took the stretch one step farther and pulled his arms down behind his head, pushing his spine into a forward arch.

The sudden thought of him being a were-cat and purring at the way his body stretched hit him like a brick. He didn't need thoughts like that and they were not welcome in his brain. He had been offered once to be turned, and he had refused. Granted, it was after the wolf had his teeth just about in his arm that he had said no. He also knew that he did like the appeal of being a werewolf and that Peter had been right in saying that he did want to be one. It was rather humiliating wanting to be what his best friend seemed to hate so much, though. Why couldn't Scott see that it wasn't a curse but a gift? He could run faster and see better than any human. Not to mention the smelling, but that one could be a curse depending on whom or what was around. The stench of a silent but deadly flatulent _could _be lethal if smelt with the heightened senses of a canine.

Jumping as his door was beat upon again, he called out an, "I'm coming, be right there," before heading to his door. Unlocking the latch, he gave his door a rather odd look before pulling said object open. His father was standing there, a Derek-esque glare firmly in place, and a printout picture held up for him to see. It was hit jeep in the middle of an intersection. Oops. "I assume I'm going to jail now?" He could feel the sheepish grin sliding across his face just as he couldn't stop the smart comment from slipping out.

The vain in his father's forehead threatened to explode as he clenched his jaws tighter. "No. Stiles, you're being royally grounded. This is one of ten photos of you blowing through stop lights. In a row. Only minutes apart. Do you know how fast you had to of been going to have pulled this off?" He didn't give his son time to respond; he just turned and walked down the hall. Pausing and turning back, "Oh, and thank your anonymous source for paying for all this. Someone came into the station and paid off the tickets. Said something about your jeep being hi-jacked but I don't believe that story for one second."

And without another word, his dad was gone and down the steps in a heartbeat. Slouching against the door frame, he wracked his brain trying to puzzle out who could, or would for that matter, pay off his speeding tickets. It didn't take a genius to realize that it could have been only one of two boys. He knew Scott didn't have the money to pay that kind of fine, but it wasn't something that Derek would do either. He was the proverbial black sheep who only looked out for numero uno.

Lifting his hand to rub his face, he stopped when his moving fingers sent a sharp pain down his arm. Yep, Scott had definitely done something to his hand yesterday. Pushing off of the door jam, he retreated back into his room and glanced around. The fact that his door had been locked upon waking but having not locked it before falling asleep the night before did not pass by Stiles' quick inventory of the room. His desk was still as chaotically organized as it had been. His werewolf papers strewn into messy piles; this pile for healing, that one for fighting, the small one on mating, the largest for ways the moon held sway over the wolf and how it affected the beast, and then there was just a pile for miscellaneous crap. His books also appeared to be untouched, the thick volumes in stacks next to his desk chair and beside his bed. Those were about the only two things he cared about in his room, except for the computer that helped him through his sleepless nights. Everything else was his clothes, clean and dirty, thrown around his room like a tornado had hit, and the other objects that he had collected throughout the years to decorate his room with. As of late he had taken to not keeping the place clean. What with trying to pull Scott from his own demons and school there wasn't really any time left to do anything else.

Grabbing the first set of clothes that he came across in his own personal disaster zone, he emerged into the hallway and went to the bathroom. A hot shower would help wake his sleep addled mind. After the water was properly adjusted and spraying not quite steaming hot water, he stepped in and let the warmth seep through his skin. The ach in his left hand dulled a little as the muscles and tendons relaxed, allowing him to flex his fingers to check and see if anything was really broken. Nothing was, but a metacarpal had to be out of place causing the excruciating pain that flared at the movement. Slowly flexing each finger to see which bone it was, he stopped at barely a twitch from his pointer finger as the shifting bones made him grit his teeth.

The second metacarpal of his left hand was the abused bone. Closing his eyes and clenching his teeth, he gave the finger a sharp pull and groaned out his pain as he felt the bone shift back into its proper place. It hurt like a bitch but at least he was able to move his hand normally now.

Finishing up with his shower, he hopped out and went through the rest of his daily morning routine. Brush teeth, check for pimples, go through werewolf books and websites, and take some Adderall. Breakfast was next on his list, but facing his still fuming father wasn't something he wanted to do. He had gotten off easy with just a short grounding. When no length was specified there was an understanding between the sheriff and himself that it would only be a weeklong sentence that involved no TV, no computer, unless for school, and no Scott. He had to be home by seven each night and have his homework done before bed.

Jumping when his phone rang, Stiles shook his head. Damn he was getting jumpy. Picking up the phone, he saw it was Scott and sighed before answering. "Hey, man, how're you doing this morning?" It was inevitable that Scott would remember. He always did after one of his blackout shifts. He might not always like what he sees but he does always remember.

It was silent on the other end for a moment before he heard a sigh so like his own. "I'm good. Could be worse if I didn't have a stubborn ass best friend who seemed to have suicidal tendencies." They both nervously laughed at that and then it was like nothing was wrong between the two. "Wanna hang out after school? Come over and we can play video games or something."

"I wish I could but my little stunt yesterday got me a week's worth of grounding. How about we stay late at school? Dad won't know it's just to talk to you."

"Sure. See you in a bit."

And with that, the line went dead and Stiles grabbed his backpack. School really did suck sometimes, but he was thankful that it could prove as cover for him and Scott to meet today. Heading downstairs, he grabbed the toast that had just popped out of the toaster and took a giant bite. He contemplated telling his father the truth about everything, but didn't want to worry the older man. He had enough on his plate with the murder of Kate Argent and death of Peter Hale. Everyone was still baffled as to how a scarred, catatonic person could magically heal and get up and walk around.

Deciding to go with a small twisted truth, "I'm sorry if I scared you yesterday. Scott needed me and I had to get to him. He's been so out of it since the Hale incident that I was afraid something bad might happen. He had called me from the Hale house and he didn't sound like himself. I can't lose him." His voice broke on the last part.

He watched as his dad got up from the table and came to stand in front of him. As his father reached out he leaned into the warm embrace, returning the hug. "I take it you got to him in time? There were no calls made last night about him and I'm pretty sure you'd be missing right now if something had happened, right?" All Stiles could do was nod into his father's shoulder. "Then," taking a deep breath, "I guess you're off the hook this time. I know how hard it was after your mother passed and I don't want to see you go through that again. If it was for Scott and you were able to draw him out then I can't feel too bad." The sheriff released the hug but pushed Stiles away by the shoulders so that he could look into his son's eyes, "But if you EVER pull a stunt like that again and I catch you, you'll wish you weren't the son of the sheriff."

Smiling and pulling his dad back in for another hug, "Thanks, dad. Love you too." Pulling away, Stiles took another bite before saying his goodbyes and heading out the door. He was feeling remarkably better by time he got to school. His dad had let him off the hook and he and Scott were going to hang tonight. It almost felt like the old times before Scott had been bitten.

Pulling into the school parking lot, he turned the car off and made his way to his locker. There were students all around, getting ready for the first class of the day. Scott was already at his locker, waiting with his back to the blue metal and eyes closed. His skin tone was back to his usual tan and there was no sign that the weight of his body pushing his back into the locker was causing him any pain.

"So, Stiles," the flash of a smirk passed over Scott's features as the boy took in his friend's relaxed appearance, "Why do I have this fuzzy memory of you kissing me then stabbing me with a butter knife?"

If he had been watching this conversation take place between two other people, the sight of the kisser would have been comical. His jaw dropped. That's all he could do. Out of everything that had happened yesterday, Scott was curious about a kiss. Just like the bastard to forget everything else and focus on the one thing that would embarrass him. Stepping closer to Scott to throw the boy off, "Oh, Scott, it's because I find you madly attractive and I can't get you out of my mind." Best way to combat embarrassment? Sarcasm. Stiles batted his eye lashes at Scott and kept up his best imitation of Allison. "We used to be locked at the lips 24/7 but after your breakdown I've been craving you so bad. I couldn't help myself." He danced out of the werewolf's way as a hand swatted towards his arm. "That's no way to treat your lady, Scott. Bad dog!" Stiles darted in to close his locker then raced down the hall, a laughing Scott hot on his tail.

The day went by fast for the two and when the last bell rang, they were on their way to the back part of the school. There were trees that lined it and gave them perfect cover from prying human eyes. Half way across the small field that separated the school from the small forest, they broke into a run, racing across the field. Naturally, Scott won, but only by a foot. They were both breathing heavily as they collapsed on the ground.

"You were holding back," Stiles threw out. He didn't mind because it made his illusion of them being back to the old ways more real.

"Well where would the contest be if I just magically appeared over here? Besides, I wanted to see if I could hold back." Sighing, "I was thinking about what you said last night and you're right. I do need to learn to control this. I can't be with Allison if…"

Snorting, "Why does it always have to be about her? That's all you think about anymore." Stiles hadn't meant for the comment to slip out but he didn't regret that it did. Ever since the girl's arrival, Scott had become distracted by her. Sure she calmed his inner wolf but she was also the reason the boy was failing his classes. Every study session turned into a make out session instead. Allison's other free time wasn't taken up by lacrosse or fighting to save her own life so she could study when Scott wasn't around. Scott didn't have that luxury.

A small growl sounding in Scott's chest, "What's your problem, Stiles? I thought you'd be happy that I was actually going to listen to you. Or would you rather I yell at you for practically killing me last night?" Scott saw his friend flinch but kept going. "I wasn't going to bring it up but, since you seem so keen to talk about something other than her, you did break my back last night. Do you realize how painful that was? And I don't mean just the healing. I watched you drive away, your fear heavy in the air, from me while I was broken. Then, to my horror, you hid in the one place that I wasn't allowed in." By this point, Scott was on his feet again, eyes yellow as he glared down at his friend.

Stiles had his eyes screwed shut. He didn't want to hear this. He already felt guilty about the whole thing. "I'm sorry. Scott, I really am sorry." His voice was so quiet that the wolf wasn't sure if he had actually heard Stiles speak.

Scott sniffed the air and listened to the other's heartbeat. There was no lie in what Stiles had said and his scent spoke of tortured guilt. He should have known better than blow up at his friend. All Stiles had ever done was be there for him. Save him any way he knew how even when his own life was on the line. It wasn't Stiles' fault that Scott couldn't control the wolf. Taking a deep breath and collapsing next to his best friend again, "And I'm sorry. This whole werewolf thing is just too confusing and I can't believe my one hope of becoming human again was ripped away from me."

Both boys stayed where they were. Neither moved or said anything. They both were thinking about the past few months. How, if Scott had refused to go into the woods that night, that it might have been Stiles that had been bitten, or how if Stiles had told his dad that Scott was really out in the woods neither would have been inflicted. They would still be blissfully unaware of the supernatural world and not having to risk their lives every other day.

Stiles' mind was popping questions off at an alarming rate: If Scott wasn't a werewolf would Allison still be attracted to him? Why was it that when Scott always lost control, except for once, it was always around him? Why did he care so much about a friend who tried to kill him on more than one occasion? Why was it that he had turned down the one offer he got that would make him, almost certainly, stronger than Scott? Why was Derek standing over them? Why was it that he couldn't outright lie to his father? Why was Jackson willingly searching out the Alpha to become a werewolf?

_Wait, what?_ Stiles mind screamed at him as he scrambled backwards away from the imposing figure. Somehow they both had missed the older were walk up to them. It was only after his sudden yelp that Scott had even taken notice. _So much for having werewolf abilities, Scott!_

"Derek, what are you doing here?" Scott was the first to talk and Stiles wasn't about to jump in. He was still frightened of the man. His angry outburst and intrusion into Derek's home was most likely going to bring down the Alpha's wrath.

As the man took another step closer to them, Stiles froze. He raced through all that he had read about evading werewolves and had read some vague passage about werewolves and their senses being their downfall. That if one could shallow out their breathing, calm their heart to a slow enough pace, mask their scent, and become completely devoid of emotion, it would be enough to throw off a werewolf's senses and allow for an escape. He wasn't paying attention to the conversation going on around him; focusing on taking deep yet shallow breaths to steady his breathing and ultimately calm his racing heart. It took a little longer than expected for it to start to work, but once he felt his heart rate drop to normal then slowly fall even more, he focused on ridding himself of emotions.

That one was harder. He screwed his eyes shut to block out the sights around him and tried to think of something that would make him want to feel nothing. The first thing that popped into his mind was his mom and that sent a sharp pain racing through his heart. That was just too painful to forget. Wouldn't forget. His next thought was of his lifelong love interest, Lydia Martin. That one too wasn't a good choice because it dredged up his anger at Scott for making out with her in the coach's office. He went through a few more before finally resting on the one thing that he had been hiding from everyone around him; his desire to be like Scott and Derek. Just thinking it was enough for him to let the feeling wash over his body and mask anything else he was feeling.

A sharp kick to his foot set his eyes flying open but he otherwise did not react. He had to keep his cool just in case he had to get away. As he looked around he saw two sets of eyes locked on him. One set was distinctly worried while the other was purely inquisitive again. Focusing on the inquisitive ones, "Why are you both staring at me?" He could guess why but he wanted to hear them say it.

Scott didn't disappoint. "Are you okay? Everything about you slowly went dead to my senses. I can still smell you and see you, but otherwise, you aren't there." His worry bled into his voice. "I mean it, what's wrong? We felt your anguish and then rage followed by nothing."

Surprise, surprise, all Derek did was nod his agreement. "You mean to tell me that if I hid, you guys would only be able to track me by my scent?" Again, a nod from Derek followed closely by one from Scott. This was too cool! He had yet another piece of useful information to use against his werewolf friends. Shrugging his shoulders and settling back down onto the ground, "Nothing's wrong, Scott. In fact, everything's great." And the best part was that he truly meant it so there was no way for the wolves to call him out on it.

Feeling that he shouldn't be rude any longer he let the first emotion that came to mind spread through his mind. To his annoyance it just happened to be a warm fuzzy feeling that he had thought he had buried for Lydia. He still liked her but he wasn't going to delude himself into thinking that she would every go out with him. She had proved that at the formal when she was concerned about Jackson.

Sitting up and then crawling to his feet, "Well, if you two don't mind, I'm off to find something better to do than be stared at. You both are giving me the creeps." Pointing at Scott, "You because of the look in your eyes," and then pointing at Derek, "and you because, well, let's face it, you're you. You're a creepy guy whether you are sincerely looking for answers or wanting to rip my throat out."

Before he was even able to take two steps he felt two different hands on him. Looking down he took note that Scott's hand was around his ankle. That left the hand that was gripping his upper arm to be Derek's. Turning, he sharply barked out, "What?" He just wanted to leave the two. It was bad enough that his time to hang out with Scott had been ruined because of their slowly drifting friendship, but now he had to deal with Derek on top of that!

Both wolves flinched at his sharp tone. Derek glanced at Scott then back to Stiles. He could feel that there was something going on between the two friends. He had felt it the night before as well when he had arrived at his house. Whatever it was had the normally easy going teen changing. Taking the initiative for once, "Stiles, we're just concerned." He paused as an eyebrow was raised in his direction. Okay, maybe the kid wasn't about to fall off the deep end. He could see the cool calculating mind working behind the brown eyes that were looking into his own green ones. Stiles had definitely surprised him with how brash he had been the night before. Not many people, human or wolf, had gotten away with attacking him unharmed. He had been too stunned by the normally frightened teen that he had let him get away. Now the same teen had a new look in his eyes. One that hadn't been there before and one that Derek decided he wasn't sure he liked. It spoke of change and unease and how swiftly people _could_ change when pushed beyond their limit. About to speak again, he was cut off by Scott.

"Derek's right. There's something not right with you anymore."

Stiles disdainfully smirked and yanked his shoulder and leg out of the grips that had stopped him. "Scott, have you looked in the mirror lately? You're not exactly the poster boy for normal anymore." And with that said, he slammed up his new found ability to throw the wolves off. It didn't take more than a beat of his heart for him to calm his breathing and shake off his emotions. Having done it once, Stiles found it easy to do. His anger at Scott's comment had him willing just about anything into existence and it was easy to bring forth the needed memories to block out anything he was feeling.

It wasn't until he was securely in his jeep, radio blaring, and engine purring, that he let the emotionless mask fall. How could Scott be such an ass? They hadn't really talked in months and then when they finally do hang out neither of them can keep their mouths shut. It was like neither of them knew each other anymore. But, when your best friend becomes a werewolf, leaves everything for a girl that he could rip to shreds, and your life becomes nothing but a constant research project gone awry, just to help said werewolf, of course things get lost and confused along the way.

Scrubbing his face with his hands Stiles pulled out of the parking lot. He had no clue what to do anymore. He wanted to be there for Scott but he wasn't sure if it would still be as his goofy sidekick. After coming face to face with Peter and begging for Lydia's life, Stiles had been forced to see that being a human in a world of supers was not going to happen. It had turned Jackson into even more of a nut case and Lydia, she was something else entirely. No one was sure as to what she was seeing as she was still in the hospital in a coma. Either way, when humans dealt with the supernatural bad things happened. If he wanted to stay alive and help out he knew he'd have to get over his goofy ways. How, was the key question? Does he do it human or as a wolf? Does he do anything at all?

Pulling out his cell, he sent a quick message to his dad telling him that he'd be late getting in tonight. He wasn't sure where he was going, but he needed to leave the small town of Beacon Hills so that he could think. It was only a twenty minute drive to West Wood and that could prove to be enough of a distraction.

The merge onto county highway A21 from East bound 147 was about five minutes away when Stiles' mind finally decided on where it wanted to go. There was no West Wood in his future. The only place he could think of going now was a secluded spot that his mother used to take him to. It was about a two hour drive down back roads and state forest pathways once turning off of Indian Ole Road. He hadn't been there in years, since before his mother passed, but he remembered the way like it was a daily trip. No one knew about the place except for them and he knew his mother had somehow found a way to keep it that way. Not even the sheriff new about this secret. It had only been for him and his mother.

Now that she was gone it was his alone.

It took a little over fifteen minutes to get to the end of Indian Ole Road and Stiles was anxious to get to Hidden Lake. _What an ironic name for a lake that no one else knows about_. That thought set a small sad smile onto Stiles' features. His chest hurt at the memories this journey was dredging up. The many hours spent star gazing when camping here with his mother, the fishing that they had both attempted and failed miserably at, followed by water fights. Most little boys did this with their dads, but as his father had been making a name for himself as deputy, it was left to his mother to teach him. The first time he had skipped a rock, pitched a tent, set fire to a pile of sticks and leaves had been with his mother. Now she was gone and all he had left was this one place that the world was unaware of.

After having driven for about an hour, the road winding and nothing but the dark forest and night sky to comfort him, Stiles rolled down his windows and continued driving. He went faster than was probably safe, but not so fast that he couldn't stop in time to miss hitting a deer or swerving to miss a skunk that was bumbling about on the old road.

The grass had grown up and taken back the once dirt road, leaving a winding grassy trail through the trees that provided a perfect grazing ground for the herbivores of the forest and Stiles couldn't help but feel more relaxed. It felt like he was heading to a home he didn't know he had. His mind stopped racing and for once it wasn't popping questions out at him. He wasn't heading to a more creepy stretch of woods so he wasn't terrified of being ripped to shreds by an angry werewolf who wanted him dead just because he was annoying. There were no bullies out here to throw him into lockers or harass him on the lacrosse field. It was just a normal forest full of animals that had no idea what he was or whether he was a threat. He figured there was probably something out here that would possibly see him as food, but didn't care. If he died by the paws and fangs of a normal animal he could live with that.

The last forty five minutes flew by as Stiles finally pulled up to the edge of the mountain that overlooked the lake. He shut off his jeep, leaving the headlights on, and hopped out. The view before him was breath taking. He could see the lights from West Wood and Beacon Hills just barely shining in the distance. They were tiny little specks of light from his perch on top of the mountain. The moons crescent beams cast a cool light onto the forest, deepening shadows and elongating the trees. But this wasn't why he was here.

Turning to the slope in front of his jeep Stiles took a moment to strip off his shirt and jeans before taking a running start and skidded over the side and into the small naturally made trough that acted as his slide. It was as he had remembered it, though when he was nine it felt bigger. Tumbling feet first into the lake he gasped in shock. Cold water enveloped his body and seemed to suspend him in a bubble. He felt like he had been under the water for an eternity, drifting with the small current and momentum from his inelegant entry, before his lungs were crying for air.

Kicking to the surface he felt his feet glide through water grass and his toes slide through sand. Taking in a deep breath as his face broke the surface of the water, Stiles went limp and floated. Out in the middle of nowhere, no one around to hear, he cried. His joy at having something that hadn't changed was washed away as he stared into the sky. The stars shown brighter and more were visible than back in town. Light pollution blocked out some of the stars completely and this was the first he had seen some of them in years. He could all but hear his mother telling him about each constellation, pointing out the stars that made up the weird pictures in the sky.

Compared to his rapidly changing life, this little niche was like a haven. In over ten years it hadn't changed. The forest might have taken over but it was ultimately the same. There were no housing developments threatening to destroy it, no logging company wanting to rip it down just to leave the land barren and dead. This place wouldn't last forever but it seemed to be resisting change longer than he could.

His best friend since they were in diapers was leaving him behind. He was now co-captain of the lacrosse team and had a gorgeous girl to call his own. He even had his own version of super powers. It all boiled down to having a new life, new friends, and old baggage. Something had to go and it wasn't the life or the new friends. Scott was popular now. He may still be butting heads with his co-captain counterpart, but he was now something of a hot commodity in the high school world. Girls were more willing to talk and hang out with him. The other guys on the lacrosse team were actually starting to like him. It was all Scott had ever wanted, and now that he had it he no longer needed Stiles. His best friend was now the geek that he could push around and get to do his research papers for him.

Stiles had seen this coming but had refused to believe it. They had been friends for so long to just loose it all after only a few months. But it was an undeniable truth. He knew that his encounter with Peter had pushed him too far. It had been all fun and games up until he had seen Lydia ripped into by the previous alpha. Then the reality of it all had crashed down on him. How had he ever thought that he could teach Scott to control the wolf? Why had he even thought that he could help in a world where humans were nothing but cattle to some?

Releasing all the air from his lungs, Stiles let his head dip under the cold water to wash away the remains of his tears. Flipping and swimming to the bank he hoisted himself out of the water and back up to his jeep. Rummaging in the trunk he pulled out his lacrosse bag and quickly changed into his spare boxers and pulled on his old clothes. There was a sweater on his back seat and he snagged it up before heading back to the lakes edge. Fumbling around in the dark he made his way around to the south-west edge and found the large, smooth, flat stone that he used to claim as his bed. The sun's rays always hit it, warming the rock all day, turning it into a heater at night. The warmth seeped out and into Stiles.

Soon his quiet mind was fogged over and sleep crept into his consciousness. He dreamt that he was nine again, watching his mother try to haul in a large fish that she had managed to catch. Her bright smile eclipsed the sun overhead and he laughed as the line broke just as the fish was scooped into the net his mom used. The scene flashed to them sitting around a camp fire and the smell of the cooking fish was in the air. It's sweet and juicy scent mixing with the fresh flowers blooming around them. Gazing about himself, nine year old Stiles stiffened. Bright red eyes were staring at him and his mother across the fire. He knew what it was but couldn't do anything as the beast launched over the flames and landed on his mother. Her scream split the night and it was suddenly Lydia in the clutches of Peter. Both scenes were playing side by side as Lydia was dropped to the field, blood flowing from her side. His mother was bleeding from a bite on her shoulder. The wound was deep and blood rushed from the bite. Both women were unconscious on the ground but only one of them would make it. As his mother stirred, her eyes opening to show a white haze filming over them, he screamed as she silently tried to speak, her last words never leaving her lips as she died.

Stiles had never felt a nightmare so real before. He had woken to his own cry of rage and fear and sorrow. It had taken him a moment to register that it had indeed been a dream. As the realization had hit him it was like losing her for a second time, his heart sinking and tears springing to his eyes. Wiping away the moisture he settled back onto his rock and looked into the sky. Far to the east he could see that the bright light of the sun was starting to chase away the stars. Groaning, he lifted his body from the stone and trudged up the hill to his jeep. The exertion woke him the rest of the way up and he climbed onto the driver's seat. It was beyond late and he needed to be back before school was due to start. Starting his baby up he reversed and set about making his two hour trek back to the place that was supposed to feel like home but didn't.


	3. Alone

The rest of the week had been a blur to Stiles. He had taken to keeping his walls up and not letting any of his usual self show through. He hadn't felt the need to. His longtime friendship with Scott seemed to be at its end. He had no one to turn to unless he wanted to bring the weight of his problems down on his father. That wasn't going to happen. His life was changing faster than he wanted it too but there wasn't anything he could do about it. Being an untrained human in the middle of a feud that had been going on between hunters and werewolves didn't give him many options to choose from if he did want to try.

His school life had been different in the following days after his fight with Scott. He no longer laughed at peoples jokes in class. This had earned him some questions from people that he barely talked to and never considered friends. His smiling face had become a rarity and even his hyperactivity was barely there. When it had surfaced he had been struggling with the need to move, to be somewhere other than in class listening to his annoying teacher drone on about protons and neutrons. It had hit its zenith after the bell rang to signal the end of the class. Someone, he hadn't taken the time to register who, had made the mistake of getting in between him and the schools exit just to ask if he was ok. He had yelled at the person asking if he looked ok to them and then let loose with a verbal assault at how the person needed to move or he was going to punch them. The person hadn't taken the warning and had moved a step closer to Stiles only to receive a fist to the nose. As the person had stumbled backwards and ultimately out of Stiles' way, the brooding teen had slipped out the door.

It had been surprisingly easy to avoid Scott. The boy was in only a few of his classes and had taken to sitting on the opposite side of the room when they did share a class. In the halls he was always with Allison and more often than not the team with there as well. He didn't seem to be phased by the end to their friendship and this had pissed Stiles off more. He had run from school that day and hadn't returned home till later that night. Ever since then he had tried not to think about Scott and had kept his distance.

Even his own father had left him alone for the most part. He had had no other option but to confront his son after the school had called to tell him about Stiles' behavior and how he had skipped school and punched another student. He had been trying to avoid his father just so that he didn't worry the older Stilinski but that proved to be futile as his father had cornered him in his bedroom one morning. He had tried to sneak past the fuming man but had stopped when he heard his full name being yelled. That was never a good omen. He had listened to his father yelling and ranting about how he didn't know who his son was anymore. How he used to be able to trust Stiles to not do anything that would get him into trouble or hurt. He had gone on for almost ten minutes before he had realized that Stiles wasn't paying that much attention to what he had to say and had finally pulled him in for a hug. Stiles had known that he had broken his father's heart a little when he hadn't returned the embrace. It wasn't that he hadn't wanted to return the hug but that he couldn't. He couldn't lie to his father and pretend that he was ok. He had known that he couldn't tell him anything though either. So he had left the older man hug him and try to comfort him by standing there and letting him. Soon after his father had had to go to work so he had left Stiles alone in the house lying unresponsive on his bed.

Now that it was Friday and the end of the nightmare week, Stiles was ready for the weekend to start. He had his bags already packed and stuffed into his jeep for two blissfully alone days. He needed the alone time. He had to think about what to do with his life now. There were doors opening in his future as ones from his past closed. Paths that he could take that would lead to a more normal life and ones that could immerse him in the world of the supernatural.

He wasn't sure which he wanted more. If he tried to go back to living as a normal human he knew his ADD would turn everything into paranoia and suspicion. He wouldn't know if the people surrounding him were werewolves or hunters. He'd try to figure it out but he knew that it would drive him insane as the years passed; the constant worry that he was being hunted by the creatures he shouldn't know exist; the fear that the Argents would use him as bait to lure out the wolves he was, or used to be, friends with; watching his own back and constantly looking over his shoulder; these were things that Stiles knew would one day put him in a mental hospital.

But, if he wanted to go down the supernatural path, he could do a few different things. He could go to the Argents and ask them for help. Help in learning to protect himself from Derek and Scott and any other werewolves in the world. Help in hiding him from said wolves so that he could attempt that normal life. Or, in a more desperate move, he could go to Derek and ask him to bite him. Neither group was likely to help him though. Why would they? He had been a thorn in everyone's side from the beginning.

The blaring of the final bell of the day jolted Stiles out of his thoughts. He was sitting in the math classroom and Mr. Atwood was in the processes of turning his back to the kids as they started packing up their belongings. He could hear his math partner mumbling to himself about how he needed to drop by his locker to pick up his chemistry book and then stop off at his girlfriend's locker.

Packing up his own bag, he darted out of the classroom and dropped all of his books off at his locker. He didn't care that he had homework due on Monday. He'd just bullshit his way through it all and still manage to come out with a better grade than everyone else. The short trip from there to his car was uninterrupted, mostly.

He had parked in the back of the lot behind some old construction blocks that had been left over from the repairs to the school from when Peter had rampaged through it. They were scheduled to be removed a week earlier but they were still there, forgotten about. He felt it was a fitting place to park his jeep. As he rounded the corner of one of the blocks he wasn't expecting the hand that shot out and grabbed his arm in a painful hold. His mind jumped from blank to fear in an instant. Was Scott going to finally kill him after so many failed attempts?

His head snapped to the person that the hand belonged to and was surprised to see who the owner was. Dark hair was styled to look messy, dark eyes were set with a look of concern in them, and an angular jaw was clenched to muscle popping proportions. His usual leather jacket was hiding the off-white shirt beneath and his dark jeans had mud soaking the bottoms of the cuffs. Of all the people to come why would it be him? He never cared before? He actually always seemed to relish scaring the teen. Pushing back the fear and letting the blank calm settle over his mind again Stiles saw the wolf's concern bleed into worry before being covered with an angry glint. That threw Stiles off. What was up with Derek? He had never shown any other form of emotion before becoming Alpha. Now he was inquisitive and concerned and worried?

Yanking on his arm, Stiles was yet again surprised when Derek actually let go. He hadn't really thought he would but wanted to get across to the wolf that he didn't appreciate the grip. As it was, he fell back into his passenger side door. Leveling a glare at the man he waited for him to respond. He wasn't going to give the wolf the satisfaction of scaring him into talking like he used to do. This was his turn to be the dark and brooding one. The one that made the other look away in discomfort and make him speak first.

Derek stared back into his eyes. Stiles could see them flitting back and forth between his brown ones, searching for something there but Stiles had no clue what. As he stared he could see the worry and concern creep back onto the wolf's features. The two emotions chased themselves around and played within the dark green pools and deepened the crease between the brows. They dragged the corners of his mouth down into a slight frown and flared the nostrils.

The chase continued for a while until a new emotion emerged. It quickly tackled the other two and had the wolf shifting his footing. Who would have thought that he, Stiles Stilinski, could stare down the great Derek Hale? It took the wolf a few more moments but he finally looked away and then stepped away from the jeep. Stiles could still see the two other emotions behind the eyes but at the present moment, Derek was uncomfortable. Stiles could only assume it was from the fact that a mere human had just stared him down.

The wolf took another step away from Stiles and the jeep. "Stiles, I need to know where you're getting your information about werewolves from."

"Why?" he spat out. Stiles hadn't expected that to be the wolf's question but he was glad he hadn't asked how he was doing. That would have made things worse. Everyone could see that something was wrong so why ask? It made no sense and was the reason he had punched the last person who had asked.

Again, Derek shifted his footing. "You've been acting weird." Before Stiles could get out a comment Derek continued. "I know you and Scott aren't speaking at the moment but it's not that. There is a select group of people that know things about werewolves and how to use that knowledge against us."

The comment was left hanging in the air and it took only a single beat of Stiles' heart to figure out what Derek meant. "You think I'd join with the hunters?" He asked disbelievingly. Granted, the notion had crossed his mind but he had no inkling to actually want to go down that path. The Argent's were a cruel family that used anyone that could get them what they wanted. They hurt innocent people and didn't think they had to suffer the consequences. Scoffing, "Here's a better question for you. Do you think they'd actually take me in? Do you think that they'd just open up their arms and welcome me in? Or would they use me to get to you and Scott?"

"They'd be stupid not to take you," was Derek's quick reply. "If you didn't learn from them then you're very good with your research and could probably show them a thing or two."

"All you have to do is listen to my heart to tell that I'm telling you the truth." He was getting tired of standing here talking to Derek. He wanted to be on the road already and away from Beacon Hills.

Derek scrubbed his face with his hands, "That won't work. Whatever you're doing to block out your emotions is keeping your heart rate steady."

This was a surprise to Stiles. He knew that the wolves could see and smell him but other than that he wasn't on their radar. Over the past few days he had worked on honing this skill so that it was second nature. He rarely had to think about keeping it up anymore, given the hours of practice that he had. He could keep his mental walls up and the wolves out with no effort at all now. He hadn't realized that keeping his heart from racing a mile a minute that it would also keep the wolves from hearing his lies.

"That's good to know. Thanks." A small spark of his old self burst forth as he thought about telling Scott that Allison was cheating on him with Jackson, but stopped the thought before it ran rampant. "Is there anything else you wanted to know or can I leave now?"

Stiles heard the rumbling of a growl coming from Derek. That must have been his way of saying no. "There is one other thing." Stiles had nowhere else to go as he was suddenly advanced upon. He felt the warm fingers wrap around his throat as Derek lifted him off the ground and slammed his back into the jeep. "Never kick me again. You'll lose the foot next time."

And with that, the wolf was gone.

Rubbing his neck he moved around to the driver's side of the car. Hopping in he swore. There was no way he could go to Hidden Lake now. With Derek suspecting him of joining the Argent's he was likely to follow him around to make sure. He wasn't about to lead the wolf to his safe haven. Groaning and sliding down in his seat he turned the ignition. The roar of his engine kicked on and he let it idle.

Where was he to go now? He didn't want to spend the whole weekend cooped up in his room, but if he went home that'd be exactly what would happen. There was always the option of getting Scott pissed off again and taking him to Derek to let the two fight, though that would bring the Alpha's wrath down on himself once he returned. Or, he could run to the Argent's and really put Derek through the ringer. If he suspected him of joining with them then immediately going to their place after being confronted about it, that would almost guaranty his betrayal in Derek's books. The thought set a smirk upon his face.

But, in the end, he knew he was still going to go to Hidden Lake.

There were other routes to it, ones that took him away from the trees and the safety of the forest so that Derek couldn't follow in his shifted form. If he followed by car, well, he'd have to turn around then but that was only if he actually spotted the black Chevrolet. The 2010 Camaro wasn't that common of a car around this stretch of California so he'd have to make sure that any that he saw wasn't the wolf following. Sitting up and putting the jeep into drive he sped off through the deserted parking lot.

He pushed the speed limit as he took 147 towards Westwood again. This time, though, instead of turning off of A21 and onto the side road that would take him to Indian Ole Road he went straight into the town. A pit stop at the local mall would through the wolf off if he was following.

An hour and a half after arriving at the mall, Stiles emerged from the busy building and ran to his jeep. He had walked the whole of the building, inside and out. He even went as far as laying false trails into parking lots only to retrace his steps and move on to laying the next dead trail. It was a surprisingly calming task, walking the overly crowded building and shops, laying false leads for any wolf that tried to track him. Though, with all the people, shops, and restaurants, Stiles had no doubt that trying to pick up just one scent in that place would be an almost impossible feat. You'd have to be an expert at tracking to pick up a trace of him.

Climbing into his seat, he plugged his iPod into the auxiliary cable and set the thing to repeat on his favorite band. Sail was the first song on the list and as he started the jeep he felt the calming effect the music caused sweep through him; combined with the trek through the mall, lying false trails, and not having seen either werewolf, Stiles left the parking lot with a light heart. He was still alert for any sign of the black car but he couldn't feel the overall anger and depression that had sunk into his heart since his 'break up' with Scott.

It wasn't until he was halfway down Old Town Road that Stiles stopped gluing his eyes to his review mirror. If the wolf wasn't behind him now there was no point in worrying if he was going to show up. He'd have to already be there to know where Stiles was and since there was no sign of the Camaro in sight Stiles let the rest of his worry drain away as a small smile formed on his lips. He had actually managed to slip away from everyone.

If either of the wolves could track him down after his attempts at covering his trail, Stiles swore on his mother's grave that he'd kiss whichever one found him. He knew it'd never happen so he didn't care that it was a ridiculous thing to swear to himself. All he cared about was his weekend alone and being close to his mother. He missed her and after being back at the place he had realized just how much he missed her.

He had always been able to tell her everything. His family had called him _momma's boy_ for clinging to his mother the way he always had but he never cared. She was the one to comfort him when he had nightmares, when he came home with a bloody lip from a run-in with bullies, when he was terrified as a child of thunderstorms. She had always been there for him. She had been his constant up until she had died.

Then he was left with a distant father and a best friend who noticed very little that happened unless it had to deal with himself. Her absence had been the catalyst that pushed him into being who he was today. She had always encouraged him to speak his mind and never let other people's thoughts and views cloud who he was and how he acted. _"If people can't accept you for whom you are then they aren't worth wasting your time over."_

That one phrase used to bring his spirits up and make him confident in who he was and how he acted. Now it served as a reminder as to why he was who he was. After she had passed he had promised himself that he wouldn't care what others thought, he wasn't going to hide his ADD driven antics from the kids at school anymore. He knew that it was going to be hard, but he had done it anyways and loved how much more freeing it had been to do and say what he wanted to do when the impulses presented themselves.

His friendship with Scott had seemed to take on new heights after that. They were constantly together; taking turns sleeping over at the others house, sharing lunches at school, playing games in the park after school, playing pranks on their parents, and any other thing that they could think of that would be fun to do. As the years progressed, so had their friendship and time together, making it impossible for one to be found without the other.

It had only been recently that they had started to pull apart. Scott had become more engrossed in lacrosse and playing first line, the boy never going more than twenty minutes without mentioning his favorite past-time. Even his nights that he used to spend with Stiles were taken up with his training; running to strengthen his legs and upper body exercises to gain more muscle mass to help him with his game.

Both of them had failed to see the small rift that had formed between them. It was only after Scott had been bitten and that Allison came into the picture that Stiles had started to see what was happening. He had tried to deny that he was losing Scott. He had tried not to think about how it made him feel like he was losing another family member. The night he had accepted what was happening between them had sent Stiles into a fifteen minute long panic attack that drained him of all his energy. That night had been the longest night he had had since the death of his mother.

And now he was here, sitting in his car at the edge of a small mountain, watching the sun set and admiring at how its colors reflected on the water's surface, completely friendless and utterly alone in a dark and mysterious world. The clouds were bathed in the same colors as the lake, but the colors were more vibrant and seemed to dance with the setting sun as it slowly sunk farther in the sky. A soft breeze was pushing the clouds across the sun at a slow pace, making the lazy sky seem like it was sleeping. The moon already hanging in the sky, the waxing crescent keeping watch over the setting sun and biding its time until it could let its children run rampant in the sky.

There was still about an hour worth of daylight left and Stiles wasn't about to waste it sitting in his car. He wanted to explore the water's edge and surrounding area before the dark blinded him to the world. Shutting off his jeep and jumping out, he fixed his bowie knife to the small of his back under his shirt and descended the slope to the lake below, it's wide rim stretching out before him.

The water itself was a clear pool, its mirror smooth surface unaffected by the slight breeze in the air. It almost appeared to be a crystal, the way it silently sat in the ground, oblivious to its surroundings and reflecting the brilliance from above. The shafts of light that penetrated the surface made the bottom of the lake light up like a concert stage. The spot lights highlighting the detritus covering the bottom and casting a long shadow in the water of the tree that had fallen into the far side.

The trunk was still on the banks and anchoring the long dead structure. Its branches looked to have once tried to reach back up to the surface of the water, desperately reaching for the sun and nutrition that it had needed. Now the skeletal limbs were a ghost in the water, providing hiding places and homes for the fish that flitted about. The trunk itself had become a sunning log for the turtles that inhabited the lake and as Stiles watch they slowly made their way back into the water and away from the soon to be dark sky.

Other than the fallen tree, the edge of the lake was relatively bare. Small shrubs and briar bushes grew in a few spots creating a barrier to the water at those points. The stone table that he had fallen asleep on the last time he was here was free of the bushes, making it an easy place to access from all angles. Over the years the water had worn away the ground under the flat stone and risen to its edge making for a perfect place to dive in. Moving to the table he looked down into the water and smiled at the deepness of it. No threat of ramming his head into anything there.

The trough that he had slid down years ago, and again a few nights earlier, was still a smooth surface of clay. That was why he had liked it as much as a kid. After his first few times down it the surface became as slick as ice and each pass made his descent to the cold water faster. It was the same width as it had been back then and Stiles felt his determination at making it wider so that he could fit more comfortably in it.

Turning to more pressing matters at hand, he returned to his jeep, grabbed the small hand axe that he had packed away and went into the trees to collect firewood. There were plenty of fallen trees and limbs that he could use to burn and he made a few trips with the lumber to the stone table. He figured it was as good a place as any to set up camp and he had a close supply of water in case the fire got out of control. The stone circle he had made after collecting the wood was now housing the little pile of tinder he had placed under a few small twigs. He lit the small pile and watched as it burned into life, blackening the twigs before they burst into new life.

It only took a few minutes for him to get the fire soundly roaring before he pulled himself away from the warmth and comfort. There were a few last minute things he had to do before tucking in for the night. One was setting up his tent.

He smirked at the memory of the last time he had gone camping with Scott. The tent that they had had to put together had left them both exhausted and confused. Both had voiced their concerns at how a piece of material and some poles had gotten the best of them. It had taken a good two hours to get the thing set up properly and in the end they both had agreed to get a better tent for the next time they went out. Staring at the compact circle in his hands, Stiles undid the straps and tossed it out in front of him. The tent popped into existence and landed soundlessly on the stone slab away from the fire. He moved his duffle bag into the tent and zipped the entrance upon his exit. This was going to prove to be a very comforting trip.

Satisfied that he had gotten his sleeping arrangements taken care of, he returned to his jeep and pulled out the specially designed cooler his mother had made. The thing was relatively light when empty, only enough weight in it to submerse the cooler into the water. As it was now, full of lunch meats and a few drinks to tide him over for the two days he'd be out there, it was heavy. The lid had an air-tight seal to keep water from leaking in. The handles were fixed to be a sort of pull-y system so that it lessened the strain on the person lifting the cooler from the depth of the water. It had been an ingenious idea on his mother's behalf and she had taken to modifying one of the few coolers that had lain unused at the Stilinski house. It had taken her three tries before she had gotten everything working in the right way and then she had made the fourth and final one.

Now it was being carried down to the stone table, tossed in to keep the contents cold, and the handle ropes secured to a nearby tree. It was an odd contraption but handy when out in the woods and you didn't want anything to smell your food.

Heading back to his jeep one last time for the night, Stiles threw on his jacket and grabbed up his pillow from the back seat. The sky was now more dark than light and the purple glow from the setting sun was rapidly fading and being replaced by the darkness of the night sky. Stars were already twinkling overhead and as he made his way back to the tent he could see more shimmering into existence. He tossed his pillow inside the tent, fumbled around in his duffle bag for a few moments and retracted his hand with a headlamp in tow. He placed the thing on his head and went to the fire.

Orange and red flames danced in the air and flirted with the wind coming off the water. It was a cool breeze that sent a pleasant shiver down Stiles' back and he scooted closer to the fire. The warmth it radiated had his mind wandering and body relaxing. It wasn't long before he was lost in the depth of the fire, the crackling a lullaby to his ears and the sounds of the forest nightlife an orchestra accompanying the lullaby.

Before he knew what had happened Stiles found himself waking to a bright light shining in his eyes. The color was a burnt orange and pink that laced through the sky above. The sight was breath taking and Stiles curled onto his side, his back protesting the movement as it was knotted from sleeping on the hard stone. The sleep slipped from his mind as the mildly uncomfortable pain in his muscles was stretched away. Before long he forced himself into a sitting position and yawned. Even though he had slept on the hard, somewhat uneven, surface he felt well rested. More rested than he had recently anyways.

The morning went by slowly as he ate a breakfast of eggs that he had brought with him, took a small hike around the area to see if there was anything interesting that he hadn't know about, a small nap around ten, and then a quick swim in the lake.

It wasn't until the sun was starting its descent that Stiles finally started his workout. He had come out here to think things through but at some point had made the decision that he didn't _want_ to think about it anymore and that he needed to keep up with his own exercise routine. He had been neglecting it since Scott had been turned.

He started out light, running along a deer path. He kept an eye out for anything that didn't look friendly but the only thing he had spotted was a family of squirrels chattering in the treetops. The only unfriendly thing about them was the high pitched alarm call they all sounded when he passed by under their tree. He continued to follow the trail as it looped around the lake. He tried to keep the clear surface in view at all times so as not to get lost but as some spots in the trail he'd lose sight of it for a few minutes before it came back into view.

When he was able to see his campsite again he halted his run and looked for a suitable branch to do pull-ups on. After countless tries on branches that looked sturdy yet bent or broke under his weight he finally found one up the hill and behind his jeep. The maple tree wasn't a rather old tree but it wasn't a sapling that would yield to his workout. It stood firm against his 50 set of pull-ups and then he proceeded to climb the branch and hang upside down on the limb by his knees. He could only do 20 curls but with all he had done it was enough to have the sweat pouring down his back.

Flipping over backwards and off the branch, Stiles landed on his feet and wiped the sweat from his forehead so it didn't drip into his eyes. The small trip back to his tent had his breathing normalized but the sweltering sun was still beating down on his back. He figured the lake could prove to be a useful training ground as well. Slipping off his clothes and into a pair of swim trunks he went to the tip of the stone table and dove in. The shock of water hit him and he was momentarily immobilized as his muscles froze from the rapid change in temperature. He forced his arms to move and his legs to kick as he rose to the water.

The surface exploded as he came up fast and hard, a deep intake of air audible to the surrounding forest. It was followed by a few rough coughs and another deep inhalation before the sound of a body moving through the water could be heard. Stiles wasn't the best swimmer but he knew how to do laps and took advantage of the circular shape of the lake. Instead of going from one edge to the other he kept the bank of the lake to his right and swam the circumference for longer than he cared to think about. By the time he extracted himself from the frigid water the sun was behind the trees and close to the ground again. He hadn't realized he'd spent most of his workout in the water instead of finishing up with the pushups that he had wanted to do.

Shrugging under the towel that was draped across his shoulders, he pulled the cooler up and out of the water. His stomach was in desperate need of a sandwich and he had one made and inhaled in a matter of minutes. He slowly ate the second one that he made and returned the cooler back to the water after retrieving an apple from the interior. The crisp fruit went well with his sandwich and he enjoyed seeing how large of a chunk he could take out of it in one bite. As his teeth sunk into the hard skin he had a brief flash of it being some animal and that his teeth weren't his own. They were sharp incisors with crushing molars, made for ripping and tearing at flesh, blood sliding down his chin and a green glow in his eyes. The image disappeared as fast as it had appeared and Stiles threw the apple into the trees. His mind had been clear all day and with one simple act it had come flooding back to him.

Stiles paced back to his tent and threw on a pair of sweat pants and a t-shirt. Now that it had reared its ugly face, the thoughts of Stiles and the supernatural world wouldn't leave him. How was he supposed to deal with this all? He had an ex-best friend that was a werewolf, another homicidal werewolf was always threatening his life, and he was sure the Argent's had him on their shit list. Three sides of a war that he had no clue how to be a part of. If you counted the idea of him living a normal life, Stiles was like the peak of a pyramid, surrounded by four sides of the same war and no hope of changing unless he wanted to crumble and fall.

He moved back out to the fire circle, tossing some kindling on the red coals and watching as they slowly started to smoke and then catch fire. Feeding the flames, he tossed twigs and then larger branches on the flames. It was roaring again before he knew it and unlike the night before the warmth didn't seem to sooth him. It made his skin crawl and he rubbed his arms to rid them of the feeling. It didn't work.

Thoughts of Scott seeped back into his brain and he couldn't help but feel like he had let his friend down. He was the reason Scott was a werewolf. First, he had dragged his friend out into Beacon Hills Preserve in the dead of night knowing there was something in the woods. Second, he had purposefully left him in the woods, _alone_, after he had been caught by his father. And lastly, he hadn't had the guts to tell his best friend that there was no way killing the alpha would have brought him back to the human side. It probably would have made him the next Alpha and what little control he had garnered would have been lost to the power rush. It was all speculation but the way Derek had acted when he had confronted the older male had made it seem like he had guessed correctly.

And Derek, the Alpha of the Hale pack, if that was what he wanted his pack to be called, was nothing more than a lone wolf at the moment. He had no one in his pack, except for Scott but could he really be counted as part of the pack when he was dating the daughter of a hunter? He had no friends that Stiles was aware of and he was still living in his burnt down house. The place was scary and yet the remaining Hale fit in well. Both were the last of what the Hale's used to be and now they were only shadows of themselves, fighting to be seen for who they were and not _what_ they were. Well, at least the human was fighting to be seen for whom he was. The house was just there as a reminder of the Hale's glory. The building had once been a beautiful mansion that sat back in the woods and greeted its guests with a warm interior and hospitable people.

But now it was just Derek. Lately Stiles wasn't even sure it was Derek anymore. The stoic man hadn't shown an ounce of emotion other than different levels of hatred and anger since their meeting but in the past few weeks Stiles was sure he had seen more than those flitting behind those dark eyes. The most prominent being the concern he had shown for Stiles the first day he had thrown up his mental walls and blocked out the wolves senses. He had seen it again the day before at his school when he had been questioned by the wolf about whether he had joined with the Argent's. It threw Stiles off to think that Derek was concerned about his wellbeing. Did that mean that the wolf wanted him in his pack? Or did that mean that he was somehow, inadvertently, part of the pack already without being a wolf? Or had Derek received one too many knocks upside the head in his fight with Peter? Stiles personally hoped it was the last. If he was part of the Hale pack he'd find a way to leave it and fast. There was no way he wanted to be part of a pack with a leader that you couldn't trust to tell you everything and who would lie and abuse his betas. Scott did deserve some of the thrashing he had received at the hands of Derek, but the lies he had told Scott to get him to help kill his Uncle were unnecessary. Scott would have helped either way, maybe with more whining about it but he would have helped in the end.

Instead, Derek had gone and given Scott hope that he could one day be human again, one day spend his life with Allison as a normal couple and live to an old age together. That dream had fueled Scott into finding and saving Derek from Kate's clutches and then helping in the battle against the Alpha. But in the end, Stiles always knew that Derek was using Scott; that was why Stiles hadn't told Scott that he had thought he knew where his phone had disappeared to and why he hadn't put effort into helping find Derek. He knew that Derek was going to end up killing his Uncle in the end. Anyone could have seen it if they knew where to look. And Stiles knew. He knew because he had wanted to kill someone at one time in his life but had been brought out of the dark. He had felt the rage at having someone you loved ripped from your life and left all alone in the world.

He hadn't known who it was that he had wanted to kill but he had felt it in the weeks after his mother's death. The black seed had taken root in his heart and only after a few weeks it had consumed him until he wasn't able to sleep at night. Unbeknownst to Scott, he had been sent to a therapist who had convinced him that he hadn't been alone and that he had friends and family that still loved and cared for him. After that he hadn't really thought any more about the person who had killed his mother. But having once felt the urge for revenge and how it could sap away the light from your life, Stiles knew that was what Derek was going through, had been going through since the death of his family and then worse after his sister had been murdered.

_And now that his revenge has been enacted Derek has nothing else to brood over. _Stiles came to the conclusion as if he had been hit over the head. For so long Derek had been trying to keep people at arm's length to keep them from getting close that now he had nothing left after his revenge. It would only make sense that a pack animal would try to latch onto the things closest to it. He remembered reading somewhere that when a werewolf pack was decimated and the Alpha was on its own it would try to form another pack, latching onto the people closest to it and that somehow or other had translated to Scott and himself and he wasn't sure how he felt about that. It gave him another opening to be tempted by the bite and that was something he didn't want to think about. He was positive he'd accept the next time it was seriously offered and he knew he'd have no regrets like Scott had. But then he also knew more about being a werewolf from all his research than Scott did. The boy was seriously lacking in the history of what he was.

Dragging his hands across his face and slumping onto his back, Stiles stared up into the dark sky. When had it gotten dark again? A groan escaped his throat as he realized he been locked inside his mind for a few hours, engrossed in his own thoughts, and had missed the sun setting. His fire had even dyed down to little more than a small pile of flames. Begrudgingly he rolled onto his side and pushed himself up onto his hands and knees before standing straight.

Something about tonight seemed off compared to the night before and it had Stiles instantly on edge. There was a different feel to the cool breeze coming off the lake. It was still and quiet. The frogs that had been his soundtrack the night before were silent as the dead. Even the nocturnal birds were silent. He moved to his tent and picked up his knife. He had discarded it when he had gone for his swim. The headlamp was the next to follow and he quickly turned on the red light. It provided more light for him to see by but it wouldn't alert others to his presence and it wouldn't hinder his night vision either.

Swinging his head from side to side to see what was out there, he saw nothing. Now that he was aware of something being wrong he felt like something was indeed watching him. Something that had been watching for a while and didn't have pleasant things planed for him. Keeping his back to the fire he placed more wood on the flame and let the glow build till it was lighting up the whole stone. Nothing was in his immediate vicinity since he was close to the water's edge and the rest of the stone lay before him. He had a feeling that whatever it was had been watching him all day and had been biding its time till night fall to attack.

His only hope was his jeep. If he could get to it then he'd be able to at least lock himself inside and drive away. Unless it was one of the hunters and they had somehow tracked him to this place. Or it was Derek and he had in fact been following behind. Maybe it was a completely different werewolf that was out there! Stiles wasn't sure what it was but he could feel it moving in the night. How he knew it was moving he wasn't sure but he could feel it. He shifted to compensate for the creatures movements and waited as it drew nearer. Reaching to his back he drew the knife from its sheath but kept it hidden from sight.

Movement a little to the left of where he had been staring alerted him to where the creature was but had retreated as soon as his eyes flickered to the spot to see what it was. He only caught a glimpse of yellow eyes close to the ground before they too disappeared with the creature. He took a steadying breath, realizing that the thing was playing with him and testing his borders, and pulled his mental walls up. If it was a werewolf this would throw them off a little. If it was a normal predator, well, he'd see how it faired against them.

It was only minutes after he had lifted his mental walls that the creature crept closer. The tawny hide rippled with the muscle mass that was bunched and coiled under the shoulders and limbs. Its big paws silenced its advance onto the stone and Stiles couldn't stop the hitch in his breathing or the faster pace his heart seemed to want to beat at. The orange glow from the fire and the red from his light combined to give the feline a hellish look and its eyes lit up when its head turned in his direction. His fear was starting to get the best of him and he wasn't sure how much longer his mental shield would last. He had already lost control of his heart rate and he was slowly starting to breathe heavier. Soon the utter terror of the situation would sink in and he'd be immobilized.

Twirling the knife in his hand so that the blade was parallel with his wrist and forearm he slowly let a plan form. It was a small opening that he could create for himself in an otherwise deadly situation and he didn't see what else he had to lose. All he had to do was wait for the puma to creep closer.

And that was what it did. Painfully slowly. It explored the contents of his tent before it went further onto the stone. He could hear it sniffing the air and winced as he heard the distinct sound of shredding material. Hopefully it was just his pillow and not the ninety dollar tent. It removed itself from his tent and padded around it, head lowered to the ground smelling and occasionally tasting the rock, before moving closer to where he stood. It was as if the creature had forgotten about him. Or so he thought until it looked directly at him and a deep rumbling growl sounded from it. And this growl wasn't like the wolves. It was more feral, more carnal, and more animalistic. The beast knew exactly what it was doing and hadn't forgotten about him once.

Now that it was padding straight for him, Stiles gripped the hilt of the knife more firmly. The puma's muscles in its shoulders bunched, pulling tight and forming a small dip between the blades as its back legs readied for a spring. He saw the leap coming and as it pounced Stiles brought the knife around in a wide arch.

He was bowled over backwards onto the fire and rolled the rest of the way into the water. He could feel the heat on his back but paid no attention to it as it and the stinging in his arm were washed away by the cold water, his fingers still gripping the bowie knife tightly. He had felt resistance in the knife has he had fallen backwards but he wasn't sure where he had gotten the cat. But where was it now? Pulling his thoughts together he made for the bank and pulled himself onto land as he heard the furious growl behind him in the water.

There was only a moment's head start to this race and Stiles took it. He ran for his jeep. The hill proved to be trying to kill him as roots tripped him and briar bushes blocked his way. He used the knife to cut through these. It was the longest five yards in his life but as he cleared the top he felt a sharp pain in his calf. He instinctively kicked out with his injured foot and felt it connect with the puma's face; a yowl sounded almost instantly. Again he used the cat's moment of pain and darted the rest of the way over the edge and to his jeep. He had his door open and was climbing in when it tackled him. He fell to the ground in a heap and curled in on himself, arms flying to wrap around the back of his neck to protect it from the mauling.

The cat snarled again and Stiles could feel it hovering over him, its saliva dripping onto his hands and its breath fanning against his fingers. He wished he still had the knife but it had dropped when the cat had rammed into him from behind and he wasn't about to uncurl and give the cat an opening to his neck. All predators seemed to go for the neck for the killing blow. He felt the animal tense above him, its hiss bringing him from his thoughts, and he whimpered as he knew it was about to attack.

And then he heard what had the animal hissing. Something else was stalking them. Its footsteps were light and pacing back and forth around them. Its responding growl had the hairs on the back of Stiles' neck rising and he silently cursed. Whatever it was sounded huge and had the cat growling back. The two beasts stood at a standstill, Stiles firmly below the tawny cat. He wasn't sure how long the two went back and forth with their challenging calls but then it abruptly changed. The cat was gone in an instant and the sound of a brawl came to his ears. Each animal was hissing, growling, yowling, and downright howling at each other as their natural born weapons connected with the other.

The sounds of the fighting were getting farther away and Stiles waited till the creatures were a good fifteen yards away before moving. He scrambled to his feet and into his jeep, this time slamming the door before anything could grab him, and started the vehicle. He was morbidly curious as to what had just saved him but he wasn't sure he wanted to see in case it wanted to kill him for itself. The creature had sounded big, bigger than any normal creature in these woods and he wanted to make sure it wasn't a potential threat to his friends.

He sat debating with himself until a knocking on his window had him yelping and cowering away from the noise. The visage that stared back at him had him gulping in fear but slowly rolled the window down when the other pointed to the round, the universal sign for 'roll down your window'. He winced as he looked closer at the man before him, the bone showing through a healing slash to his forehead. The blood was smeared over his face as if he had tried to brush it away.

Jumping again, he tried to struggle out of the grip on his shirt. Teeth bared, "What are you _doing_ out here, Stilinski?" The question left little room for argument.

Stuttering, "I, you, well, you see, it was…." And he trailed off as the man before him shook him slightly. Taking a deep breath, he restarted. "I came here to get away and think. To figure things out."

The wolf glared at him for a moment more before releasing his hold and yanking the door open. "Out." It wasn't a suggestion and Stiles felt he had to comply. This was not the time to poke at wounded wolves. He slid from the vehicle, distinctly aware that he was favoring his right leg and had to use the back door to steady his stance as his back was twinging in an odd way. Hobbling to his tailgate he shook off the man's hold he had placed on his arm to steady him and pulled the back open. He all but collapsed into the trunk, only managing to stay sitting up with a firmly placed hand on the side window.

Closing his eyes and taking a few calming breaths, he asked the first question that came to him. "Why are you here?" It was almost a whisper but he knew the wolf heard him. He could hear heartbeats so he knew the man had heard his question.

He was almost resigned to the fact that he never received answers from the man when he heard him let out a small breath and the back end of the car dipped a little more with the added weight. "Your father was worried about you. He called Scott asking to see if he had seen you, which he lied and said that you were staying at his place for the weekend. Scott called me in a panic saying that you were missing and that no one knew where you were. We split up at the school and I followed your trail to Westwood to see if I could track you down there. To my horror I was tracking a rather _long_ trail through the mall." Stiles was amazed. The wolf had actually sought him out after finding out that no one knew where he was. It only further proved that the wolf had somehow managed to see him as a pack mate. But, he didn't seem too pleased about having to take a trip to the mall. His eyes were flickering back and forth from human to wolf as he spoke. "You put me through the ringer trying to figure out what you were doing but once I figured it out I went back to the place that your car had seemed to stop at in the parking lot. It took me a while to pick up your scent but I managed to catch it once the breeze had stopped. From there I ran with it and found myself here. _Just in time to save your scrawny ass!_ What were you going to do if I hadn't shown up? Just let the world think you had run away?"

Stiles flinched away from Derek. The movement pulled at his back and he hissed at the pain. Now that he was sure death was not in his immediate future he could feel the injuries he had taken. The cuts on the back of his right leg weren't deep, he could still move it, but they weren't superficial either. He tried to flex the muscle and a wave of nausea washed over him. That wasn't good. Groaning at the thought of going to the hospital he jumped when he felt a hand pull his shirt up. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

The wolf just glared and continued lifting the shirt up and away from the flesh. "If we don't get these washed out soon they'll get infected. Or would you prefer I let that happen as I drive you back to the hospital?"

That was all it took for the teen to give in and let the wolf help tend to his wounds.


	4. Changes

Stiles had been blissfully unconscious to the world until a constant throb in his leg made itself known. It had been a minute feeling at first but as it persisted the feeling had moved from being something that could be ignored to a dull ache that he wanted to rub away. He would have tried to reach for the spot but he was pleasantly snuggled face-first into his warm pillow and surrounded by the fleece blanket he had brought along in his duffle bag.

As consciousness slowly returned to him he could feel why his leg was bothering him. Someone, he couldn't quite remember yet as he was still more asleep than awake, had set about cleaning the wounds again, using tweezers to extract more debris that the triple antibiotic had pulled out. Memories of what happened the night before flooded back to him and he remembered who that someone was and how he had saved him, and, begrudgingly to Stiles, tended to his wounds. Oh, how life loved to torture him.

"For the love of all that is holy, what are you doing?" A groggy, irritated Stiles finally asked. He was baffled by the wolf. Sure, he had been saved by Derek but that didn't stop the brooding man from harassing him the last time it had happened. Now Derek was willingly tending to his cuts and burns?

An almost inaudible snort sounded. "I thought that would be obvious."

Rubbing the sleep from his eyes and grumbling about wolves and multiple personalities, Stiles rolled his head and stretched his neck from side to side. It seemed to be the only set of muscles that didn't hurt when he moved them. "So now he wants to be sarcastic. Great! I'm stuck in the middle of freaking nowhere with a werewolf who can't decide if he wants me dead or wants to be my nurse." He smothered his face in the pillow again and waited till his leg was released; missing the eye roll he got from the older man.

The wait wasn't long, but it hadn't come soon enough for Stiles. He was anxious to move about, see what his body would allow him to do. He had made it down to the tent the night before, refusing help the whole way, but that was the extent of his movements since then. He hadn't even tossed in his sleep, exhausted from the workout and mountain lion attack. Now that he had his leg back he wanted to get up and move. But that left him with one problem. His nurse was still lurking behind him.

Oh, how he cursed the wolf, all werewolves really. If it hadn't been for them he wouldn't be out here in the woods, making himself vulnerable to puma attacks and the like. No, it was all their fault and he had to be assigned one as his caretaker. It wasn't bad enough he was saved by one, twice by the same one actually, but now that very same werewolf had taken the initiative to stick around and help him. Werewolves would probably, ultimately, be his demise.

Grumbling and rolling over, keeping his back from actually touching the ground by propping himself up with an elbow, he felt a sliver of dread sink in. His dad was going to notice that something was up when he finally returned home. He'd start asking questions and Stiles didn't think he could lie his way out of this one.

A hand under his arm pulled him from his new train of thoughts and hoisted him onto his feet and dragged him out of the tent. Looking into the green eyes that were staring into his brown ones he felt the dread shift to worrying about his own safety again as the wolf wore a smirk. "Maybe I'm helping just to have the pleasure of killing you myself."

The pit of Stiles' stomach dropped at the threat. _Dear God this is not my year_, he thought. Every other time he turned around someone was threatening his life. Most of that time is was just one someone, but there was the odd person thrown in to add a little variety to the occurrences. This threat, though, was a tad more frightening seeing as how he was defenseless, not that he ever wasn't, and alone in the middle of a forest where no one could hear him scream if Derek really did want to torture and kill him.

As his subconscious raced, his mind supplied a reply and had it slipping between his lips before he knew what he was even saying. "Well, damn. I thought that was your master plan in getting rid of me." His tone made the statement sarcastic but he felt an undertone of anger in his words. Why couldn't the wolf just answer him for once with a straight answer?

"How does your diminutive little mind figure that?"

Stiles glared at the insult to his intellect before continuing on, his words laced with a deadly amount of sarcasm. "Oh, I don't know, let's say, maybe because it would have _eaten me_! The last time I checked I wasn't some supernatural freak."

He felt the grip on his arm constrict, a slight increase in pressure that had him hyper aware instantly. Would this be it? Would his last vision of this world be the lake shimmering with the morning sunrays reflected on its surface, the clouds white and puffy in the sky, and the leaves just starting to change colors for the season? A distant thought flitted through his mind, wondering why the earth was shaking, but he pushed it to the back of his mind. Who cared about earthquakes when your life was about to be ripped from you? Would he never have an awkward conversation with his father again? Would his friendship with Scott never be repaired? He figured that if he did have to be killed, he'd rather it be here, at the lake, where he felt closest to his mother.

Stiles felt the world shake again, this time jolting his leg as he tried to steady himself, and realized that the shaking wasn't coming from the world but from his body. Specifically, it was being caused by the two hands holding his shoulders but that was beside the point. He met green with brown and thought he saw concern floating through their depths before it was swept away by annoyance. Why was Derek shaking him? He was supposed to be killing him for calling him a freak; fangs sinking into his jugular, claws digging into pliable flesh and shredding whatever they came in contact with. He was supposed to be begging for his life not standing outside his tent with a werewolf looking at him like he was going insane.

As he focused more intently on the green eyes, watching the warring emotions in their very deepest depths, he pulled free of the grip on his shoulders and hobbled over to the fire. Its warmth felt nice in the morning air and he opted for sitting by the edge and staring into the flames instead of into green eyes that were starting to confuse him more than scare him. He was accustomed to the anger and pointed looks Derek used to throw at him, the snide remarks and threats almost a greeting between them.

The audible sound of shoes moving across the stone slab alerted Stiles to Derek's movements. With his back to the man he could hear the quick footsteps that took him to the other side of the fire and watched as the dark figure sat down. Voicing his thoughts, "Who are you and what have you done with Derek Hale?" He felt the old him, the more carefree and annoying him, slip through with the comment and ducked his head to avoid the gaze that drifted his way.

All Stiles thought he was going to get as a reply was the silence that followed. It left room for birds' songs to drift by and the wind to carry them away on its gentle currents before he was proven wrong. "What the hell are you on about now?"

Lifting his head to look at the man sitting across the fire from him, "This," he gestured between the two of them, "never happens. Not unless you're shot in the arm or we're trying to get someone to trace a text." He scrubbed his face with his hands before continuing. "Don't think I haven't noticed that since becoming the Alpha you've been acting like you actually care about what happens to Scott and I whereas before was just a means to an end that you were controlling every step of the way."

"As I said yesterday, the Argent's would be stupid not to take you." Stiles was confused by the statement but didn't have time to respond as Derek continued. "You see too much."

When the werewolf didn't continue he blurted out, "What's that supposed to mean?"

A small growl drifted over the flames and met his ears. "It means that things have changed since I killed my Uncle."

Dumbfounded by the others lack of detail and wanting his own questions answered he finally bluntly asked, "And that would mean, what, exactly? That you're now out to find a pack? That Scott is part of the pack even if he doesn't want to be?" A little higher pitched, "Am I part of your little pack now?" He wished all three of those questions would be a solid 'no'.

Green eyes leveled with brown. "I think you already know the answers to those."

Stiles cursed as he looked away. Keeping his eyes on the sky above, "And what does being in this pack entail?" He spit the word pack out like it was a rotten piece of fruit that he had just bitten into.

He heard the wolf exhale and inhale a few times before finally speaking up. "Added protection for you."

Twirling a finger sarcastically in the air, "Yippy." At the sound of the next growl he looked back down at Derek and continued on a little more sincerely. "I am grateful that you saved the day last night. We both know I wouldn't be here now to annoy you otherwise, but I don't know how I feel about being in a pack. Both you and Scott have threatened me on more than one occasion and I'm not fond of following a leader who lies."

Confusion swept the wolf's features. "What lie?"

"That nice little white lie that gave Scott hope for a human future. Ring any bells?" Just thinking about the lie, he could feel his anger at the other bubbling up. Taking a deep breath to calm his anger and mentally push it back, "Why couldn't you have been honest with him?"

Sighing and reluctantly answering, "I couldn't take the chance that he wouldn't help. We're stronger when we work together, as proven when we took down Peter, and I needed his help. I couldn't leave it up to chance."

A sardonic smirk spread across his features, "And now you're stuck with an angst-y teen wolf and his ex-best friend. Wonderful place you've landed yourself in."

"Shut up, Stiles," the wolf grumbled out.

And Stiles did just that. There was no use asking any more questions as Derek seemed quite disinterested in talking anymore. His green eyes wandered the trees and brush and Stiles wondered what it was like having werewolf vision. How much better could he really see?

Before long he found himself bored again with just sitting and watching the day slowly move by. He really needed to get up and move or there was no way he was going to be able to function properly the following day.

Using his good arm, he pushed up off the ground with his hand and propelled himself upwards and onto his feet. His right leg wasn't giving out on him but it didn't feel pleasant either as he slowly started hobbling his way around the lake. He needed to get his body accustomed to the movements and desensitized to the abuse of being used while still injured.

For the first time since waking he fully focused on his body and how it felt. He was surprised that, given the events of the last few days, he felt well rested. His back ached, though, with each movement he made, but it was manageable and he was grateful for it. He needed to be able to at least move from the waist up and having the use of his back inhibited would have been a massive pain to deal with. He could feel the tightness in the skin as he twisted from side to side, testing the range of motion that his back would allow. He could only manage a 30 degree turn in either directions before his skin felt like it was beginning to tear from his back and split open. Each time he felt the onset of pain he quickly snapped back to facing forward, all the while still slowly making his way around the water's edge.

His leg was another matter. With each step he took he could feel the muscles move and stretch in the slits. It was an overly odd feeling, sensing the bunch and release of the muscle. The sensation proved to help ease the pain that he knew was there. It had, after all, been enough to make him want to expel the contents of his stomach last night right after the attack. He just hoped the pain would stay away as he trudged through a small patch of brush. The new bandage around his leg helped to stop the branches and leaves from invading the already tender skin and his mind wandered back to the previous night, glaring at anything in his immediate area.

Before he had had a chance to protest, the material that had been around the wound had been torn up the seam and rolled around his knee. The four lines that the claws had made had had Stiles gagging at the sight. It wasn't that they had been deep or even obscenely long, but that the skin had been shredded under the force of the swipe. It had bunched up at the ends of the slashes and blood had been draining from the flesh leaving a red track running down his leg and twirling around his ankle like a shimmering tattoo.

Derek had insisted on removing the hanging flesh before cleaning it and that had involved a thrown pair of tweezers and razor blade. He had wanted to use his claws to rip the flesh the rest of the way off but Stiles had screeched out a protest and had tossed the medical utensils out of the kit and at the wolf. He hadn't wanted the image of Derek tearing his skin off of him even if it had been flesh that had already been barely hanging on. No matter how much it had seemed like the wolf had been trying to help, the sight would have been the icing on the cake that had made Stiles permanently afraid of the man. It had been with a relieved sigh that he had seen Derek snatch the tools out of the air and unwrap the blade. The tweezers had been cool against his inflamed skin as, piece by piece; the strips had been cut away.

He hadn't expected the wolf to suddenly clamp a hand onto his knee and that had led to the iodine that had been poured over the cuts. His squirming hadn't made the wolf's task any easier and he had stilled at the sound of the quiet growl that had sounded from the man behind him. It was still Derek that he had been dealing with and he hadn't wanted to find out if he was still going to belt out threats.

Having resided himself to the fact that the wolf hadn't been going to let go, Stiles had propped his upper body up on his right elbow and twisted so that he was able to see over his shoulder and watch what had been being done to his leg. The iodine having been placed back on the ground so that a hand was free, Stiles had watched in horrified fascination as the tweezers had been inserted into the cuts. He had been distantly aware that a whine had left his lips as the cool metal slid through the lines and pushed out small pieces of dirt and debris that had lodged themselves in his leg. He had tried not to move but when he had felt, rather than saw, the tweezers open, stretching the cut they had been in open, and close around something in it, he flinched. The movement had made him hiss in pain as the tweezers had dug farther in before being yanked out. There, nestled comfortably between the tongs had been a small pebble that had been promptly dropped onto the ground.

Losing his sense of balance as his right foot slide on a particularly green stone, arms flailing at his side to keep from falling, he realized he had made it to the fallen tree on the other side of the lake and sat on one of the branching roots. Stretching his shoulders to try and get the odd feeling of having his skin twisted too far in one direction his eyes landed on his campsite across the water. His thoughts had consumed him so much that he hadn't noticed he had walked around half the lake.

There was no sign of the other occupant by the fire and Stiles mentally shrugged his shoulders. Neither were the others keeper and he didn't feel the need to start now. A pack bond may have formed for the other but he wasn't feeling the least bit warm towards Derek. Both werewolves had to earn his trust before he'd let the two wolves know that he was willing to accept them as pack. There was no denying to himself that as much as he didn't want to be part of the pack consciously, subconsciously he knew he wouldn't mind the new family.

Shaking those thoughts from his head, he took a deep breath of the clean mountain air and stretched out his right leg. The pain that had previously been hidden to him seemed to have flared to life. At the moment it was manageable but he wasn't sure what it would feel like once he started walking again. He half contemplated swimming back but that thought died as he flexed his calf muscle, holding it for a few seconds, and felt the sharp pain shoot up his leg.

Mentally groaning, he stood and made the slow procession back to the camp, stumbling into his tent to rest under the late morning sun. The sight that greeted his eyes was one that he hadn't expected. Backing out just as slowly he went to the tip of the stone table and let his left leg dangle into the water. Derek Hale, the current badass and Alpha werewolf of Beacon Hills, was presently passed out on his pillow. In sleep, the scowl had been replaced with a look of contentment, not entirely a happy look but not the brooding drawl of the brows and downward cast of the lips that usually adorned his features. If he hadn't believed the others words about being part of the pack before, finding the man curled up on his side, one arm under the pillow that was trapped under his head and the other flung across his stomach, convinced him. Never before had the wolf let his guard down enough to fall asleep around anyone else, but here he was snoozing the day away.

Slipping his shirt off and placing the bunched up fabric on the ground where his back would hit, Stiles laid down and let his eyes drift shut.

For the second time that day Stiles awoke to the feeling of an unwanted pain. This time it was coming from his back and he groaned as he felt the bandage being lifted the rest of the way from the damaged skin. Halfheartedly he reiterated his question from earlier in the morning not possessing enough energy to pay attention to the reply he received and snuggled into his pillow.

Eyes flying open, instantly awake, he realized he had his pillow. Shifting his head to the side he saw that he was in the tent and tensed. Why was he in the tent? _How _was he in the tent? Rolling over onto his side, "Care to explain how I got here? I distinctly remember leaving the tent after stumbling upon you here."

A hand firmly pushed him back onto his stomach before answering. "You're scrawny and I'm not."

"You carried me?" Resting his face in his pillow again and taking a deep breath to calm his nerves, he moved his head just enough to get his words out without them being too muffled, a splash of annoyance lacing the words. "My pillow reeks of wolf. Did you take a bath before passing out?"

"Yes, Stiles, I purposefully took a bath so that I could get wet-dog smell all over your bedding." The reply was meant to sound condescending but amusement seeped through and overrode the statement.

"At least you admit it," he grumbled. He patiently waited while his back was gently cleaned before speaking up. "How bad is the burn?" It was the one wound he hadn't seen and he couldn't judge it's severity by how it felt.

A deep exhalation sounded from above him before a pregnable silence fell over the tent. It was broken by a small intake of air. "Comparing it to Peter's, I'd say not that bad. The majority of it is minor burns. Up here," Stiles felt a fingertip run along the middle of his back "appears to be on the verge of being a second degree burn."

Turning his face back into the pillow Stiles released a few choice words before sitting up and facing Derek. "You wouldn't have some magical werewolf healing that I don't know about," he asked seriously.

"Receiving th…" a hand covered Derek's mouth before the rest of the sentence could be uttered.

"If you say what I think you were about to, don't. Not unless it's as a last resort." He let his hand fall back to the ground and glanced away from the electric blue ones.

"You like to tempt fate, don't you?" Derek let the question hang in the air as he continued on as if he hadn't posed it. "It's either that or the traditional way a wolf cleans its wounds."

As Stiles chanced a glance back at those blue eyes he screwed his face up at Derek. _The traditional way?_ "What do you mean?"

Derek's head shook as a smirk slid across his face and his eyes bled back to a darker, greener shade. "Think about it."

And Stiles did as the wolf left the tent. He heard him moving around outside the tent but didn't try to hatch out what the other was doing. Instead he laid back down on his stomach and thought about how dogs healed their wounds and came up with a blank. Most dogs were taken to veterinarians to get treated for injuries. Humans sometimes supplied their own means of treating the animal's wounds but nothing that the dogs could do would heal their injuries. Except for licking.

Horror struck Stiles as he bolted upright. Sucking in a lungful of air, "That's disgusting, Derek," he belted out. The thought sent a shiver down his spine and he mimed gagging as the werewolf's shadow blocked the doorway.

"Catch," was the only warning he got before an apple was tossed at his head but he managed to catch it before a collision ensued. "There's a sandwich waiting for you if you want it."

"How can I eat after that mental image? Ew." But he got up and went out to where the food was waiting. He tossed back the apple first, glad that he didn't have visions of it being some poor helpless animal this time. The two sandwiches on his plate were accompanied by a handful of potato chips and a bottle of water.

Unexpectedly a hesitant question was tossed in his direction. "Are you feeling better?"

"Give me at least 24 hours after the attack then ask again," he said around a mouthful of food.

An irritated growl rose from the other before quieting down to a human groan. "Not those, idiot. You're acting more like the old Stiles."

Stiles didn't mean to choke and spit the water out of his mouth but did it anyways. Coughing, "Old Stiles?" he questioned. All he got was a half-hearted glare at his reaction and he averted his gaze to his food, finding it of much more interest. "It's this place," he whispered. "It's the same as it was back then." Getting angry with himself, "And why the hell am I telling you this shit? It's none of your business!"

Still looking down at his sandwich he mentally pushed away all feelings. He didn't want Derek to know that this was the one place that he felt safe. Sure, he had been attacked here and would have died but he had been attacked by something natural and saved by something supernatural. In Beacon Hills he had been threatened, chased, attacked, bullied, and used. Some by his once brother and some enacted by homicidal werewolves, but it didn't matter, his home town had become a place of fear and paranoia and if it took a vast distance of forest and mountains to make him feel safe he wasn't about to share that with one of the creatures that had him worrying about his own safety.

A snarl set his mind back in place and his head snapped up to see the old glare he was used to on the alpha's face. The green eyes were flickering between the docile blue and an angry red. Fangs bared and voice raised, Derek snarled, "Stop hiding!" The lids closed over the flashing orbs, hiding them from view.

Leaving self-preservation behind, "Who's hiding, Derek? I'm right here. This is what you've all done to me." The lids flew open and another angry snarl ripped from the others throat. "Humans that get mixed up in the land of the supernatural have to cope by any means possible and this is what I found," he angrily explained.

He watched, anger reflected in his eyes, as Derek's continued to flicker between the two contrasting colors, the bright red presumably being the worst. His features had changed and the human visage had been replaced by the Beta shift. The subtle twitch and flinch of the werewolf penetrated the hatred in Stiles' mind and he realized this was not the time to challenge the Alpha. Derek may view him as pack but Stiles knew enough from watching Scott and Derek interacting and the National Geographic's Channel that a pack member could still be schooled by the pack leader. And being human when the Beta phase progressed into the Alpha phase was not something that Stiles wanted to be around for.

Conceding for the time being, Stiles let the mental walls he had erected crumble but continued to glare daggers at the wolf. In one fell swoop he had all but admitted that he was afraid, that he was no longer as carefree as he used to be, and that he blamed the werewolves for that.

Shaking his head to get those thoughts out he took a deep breath to calm his frayed nerves and ease the anger. "You are a shitty Alpha," he stated. "An emotional rollercoaster ride is not a trip someone in my condition should be taking." Looking down at the plate of food he had forgotten about, Stiles had a sudden urge to toss the contents of the plate at the brooding man. If Derek wanted the old Stiles back then he was about to get a tiny portion of him.

Heaving himself up off the ground and into the air, plate firmly in tow, Stiles made as if he was going around the wolf to the cooler to pack away his un-eaten food. With every other step he tried to repress the wince that he could feel pulling at his features until he was behind Derek. He contemplated faking a stumble but had the distinct feeling he'd be caught doing it on purpose and a blatant act of insubordination would be more fun. So with a quick pause he dumped the plate over the wolf's head, smiling as the chips rained down on the broad shoulders and the second, uneaten, sandwich landed with a silent plop on the dark crown and stayed, and continued on his trek to the cooler.

The annoyed groan wafted to his ears and he smirked at how the wolf wasn't present in the sound. As he stared down at the cooler and wondered how he was going to open it without pulling his back by bending over he felt something hit the back of his head, something that was soft and landed by his foot. Stunned, he left the sandwich where it fell and awkwardly bent to open the cooler, hoping that it wasn't too much strain on the burnt flesh. Sifting around in its contents he pulled out a bottle of soda and gently shook it from side to side before moving to stand over the wolf again. Opening the bottle he watched in mute fascination as the contents exploded out of it, spilling over the edge and onto Derek, or at least where he had been only a fraction of a second beforehand.

"Don't start something you can't finish, Stilinski," the wolf warned. He had moved to the cooler and pulled out the small package of lunch meat. With inhuman speed, Stiles watched as Derek sent a slice of ham flying through the air to land directly on his face. It stuck to his cheek. He sent it flying back at the wolf with deft fingers, disappointed that his aim was far off as it sailed to the right of the wolf and landed on the water. As the next volley of ham came at him he leaned out of the way and sent an arc of the soda in the werewolf's direction. He heard the indignant grumble as the dark liquid splashed onto the white shirt and didn't have time to duck out of the way as the lightning quick reflexes sent a squirt of ketchup towards his head.

"Unfair," he called out as the red paste stuck to his face and slide down onto his chest. "Werewolf abilities give you an unfair advantage. I demand a free throw."

"You'd still miss," came the smartass reply.

"Do you think I care? Doesn't matter whether you do or don't. I will get you back for this." He indicated the ketchup by wiping off his face. Taking a swig from the almost depleted bottle in his hand he asked, "Happy now?" His back was to Derek in search of something to wipe the rest of the ketchup off with and came up empty. The tent was sure to have something so he went in search of a towel and shirt.

When he emerged from the tent, a pair of shorts replaced his torn sweat pants and he was wiping a towel across his bare chest, Derek was still in the same place, facing the water. Moving over to the man, he shoved Derek's shoulders and laughed as he fell into the blue depth. As the wolf came gasping to the surface, he managed to state through his laughter, "I asked you a question." He couldn't read the expression on Derek's face and so back peddled off the stone and onto the dirt.

A few short strokes and a quick heave had Derek back on solid round. Stiles felt half bad as the drenched man stood on the tip of the stone table and shook his arms. Another laughing fit was threatening to break free until blue eyes met brown. "You want wet dog? You've got it."

Before he had a chance to react Derek was running at him, features shifting to compensate for the Beta, but it didn't stop there. As the bones and muscles settled into place they began to change again, lengthening and convulsing as a new shift took over. Hair spread from along the jaw down his neck and disappeared under the white shirt. In only a few steps the Beta phase was almost unrecognizable as muscle had built up and broadened the shoulders and chest, face had become more of a snout, and fur sprouted from every visible patch of skin that there had been. In only a few more steps the Alpha phase that Stiles associated with Peter was continuing to shift, body lengthening and falling to all fours, completing the transformation that he had only seen once before.

It was at this point that Stiles realized he should have been running away from the on-coming threat but he had frozen, mesmerized by the change. He half screamed in pain as the large wolf knocked him to the ground, back slamming into the dirt, its front paws perched on his chest, teeth bared just above his nose, those same blue eyes stared back at him, an unknown emotion playing at the edges.

Realization dawned on Stiles as the wolf above him shook, water spraying everywhere. The fear that had gripped him melted away and he was able to breathe again. This was not the Derek that he had come to know. Pushing at the snout that was still inches from his nose, he pointed it to the side. "You're breath reeks." A pointed glare was cast towards him and he came to the immediate conclusion that this look was best suited for this form. On Derek's human face it was scary and caused people to move away from the man. On the canine's face it sent chills down his spine and he didn't want to have that gaze on him ever again. The look finally fit the face and it was beyond creepy.

"Can you please move, now? You clearly are the master at all sports." A slight cock of the head was his only answer. Rolling his eyes he made to sit up and bit back a groan. "As I have said before, you are a horrible Alpha." The landing had definitely irritated his back and he was fighting to keep his recently eaten lunch down. The wave of nausea passed and he was able to make it up this time, concerned eyes locked on his. "Don't give me that look; you were the one that did this." There was no conviction in his voice. Sitting in the dirt, waiting for the pain to subside, he examined the creature before him. It was slightly larger than your average dog, form built for running and fighting, muscles rippling under the coat of fur. In the early afternoon light the dark fur sparkled with the lake's water, blue highlights appearing as if they were a natural part of the coat. Its movements were as silent as the human counter-part, as fluid in its movements as well.

Yelping in surprise and pain, back arched, Stiles spun to see the wolf behind him. "Bad dog," he yelled at Derek. "I said no licking!" He cringed as pearly white fangs were bared in a snarl at the demeaning shout but continued on. "I am not going to let you lick me! No way, buddy! This Stiles is staying the hell away from your tongue." As he spoke he got his knees under him before standing on shaking feet. He thought he was going to be able to get out of this as he had successfully made it two steps away from the wolf but was tackled from behind. Landing face first in the dirt he stilled as he felt the wolf's hot breath at his neck, teeth gently but firmly closed around his shoulder.


	5. The Sounds of Silence

The constant ticking from the hall clock kept up a steady beat, lulling anyone in hearing distance into a quiet slumber. Warmth and long shadows from the afternoon sun mixed with the boredom that had taken hold of the young teen and it was no wonder that at an early hour he had fallen asleep at his desk. The distant sounds of a motor shutting off and closing doors didn't disturb the slumbering figure. Subtle sounds of movement drifted up to the second floor causing the sleeping teen to move in his sleep, oblivious to the man below opening and closing cabinets, the refrigerator, and the oven. A television flicked on and the sudden blast of sound in the otherwise quiet house brought the teen to the brink of consciousness, only falling back into the dark oblivion when the television was turned down and could no longer be heard upstairs.

Harsh knocking and foul language snapped the teen from his sleep and found him sprawled on the floor. A few choice words slipped free before he pulled himself to his feet and glared at the window in front of his desk. He was ready to either yell at or ignore whichever werewolf was disturbing his peace when his brown eyes met a mirror image of his own. Confusion shot through him as he reached for the shiny new latch on his window and turned it so that it was unlocked. Hoisting the window open, "Why are you on the roof, Dad?"

Annoyance flashed across his father's face. "Because _every_ window in my house has a new lock. Care to explain why?" After a quick glance at the desk, "Go unlock the other window so that I can get in first. I'd prefer not to climb over your windowsill _and_ desk."

Stiles ran to comply with the request and helped his dad in through the window. Once they were both safely in the house, seated around the kitchen table and eating the food that had been placed into the oven when the sheriff had arrived home, Stiles regaled his dad in why the windows needed new locks.

"You see, we had to watch a short video on safety today in homeroom and one of the things that it covered was how to help make your home safer. Most people don't have any kind of locking mechanism on their windows and that creates an opening, no pun intended, for burglars. A lock is a simple, easy, way to get around that. I went out after school today to get a lock for every window and installed them myself. I mean, you are gone most evenings and it's just me here, who's to say that someone won't take advantage of that and try to rob us one day? Also, I removed the key from under the door mat. The video said that that is a common place to have a hidden key and that they mostly do more harm than good. If everyone has a hidden key then how is it hidden when all one has to do is search for the key?" Stiles took a moment to catch his breath and scarf down more of the lasagna.

"I was wondering what had happened to the key. I looked for it but couldn't find it." Sheriff Stilinski watched in mute fascination as his son inhaled all the food that had been on his plate. It seemed his voracious hunger for fries extended to other foods as well. "So where did you move the key to if not under the welcome mat?"

"We're no longer going to have one. Besides, when was the last time we needed it?"

"Umm, today? If it had been there I wouldn't have needed to get up on the roof." He shook his head at his kid.

"Speaking of roofs, how did you get locked out in the first place?" Stiles watched embarrassment slither across his father's face and stifled a chuckle with a mouthful of food.

"I left my keys in the house when I went out to the cruiser to grab a bag I had forgotten. When I came back to the door it had closed behind me and I hadn't unlocked it when I had gone out. I first went for the spare and realized it wasn't there. After banging on the door for ten minutes I came to the conclusion that you had apparently died on me. Thus my climbing the ladder to the roof and scaring the life back into your worthless corpse."

"Ouch, dad, ouch. Your words cut deep." Cleaning the rest of his plate off with his a piece of garlic bread, "How's work been lately? Any more animal attacks?"

Leaning back in his chair, hands folded across his full stomach, the sheriff let loose a long and drawn out yawn. "No animal attacks. Not since the last one up at the Hale house. There have been the odd sightings of a wolf or large dog in the area but so far no one has been able to get a picture of it so we can't get proper identification. It's not attacked anyone so there's no need to worry about relocating it."

"A large dog?" Mentally rolling his eyes, Stiles couldn't believe Derek would be so careless. Why was he running about in that form bringing more attention to himself and the rest of them if he was trying to keep under the Argent's radar? "What made the informant think it's a wolf and not a dog?"

"For starters hikers have reported hearing howling coming from the preserve. Each report has said that there are either two or three of them but only one has been spotted. Not to mention that, although no humans have been attacked, there has been a cow reportedly massacred out in the middle of nowhere. The farmer sent the station some photos and it looks a lot like a wolf pack had its way with it. The entire animal was…"

"Dad! Spare me the details please. I like my food right where it is and a detailed account of what the cow looked like after its date with destiny is not going to leave it where it is." Piling his plate on top of his fathers, Stiles set about cleaning up the table. Nothing else was said and the dishes were washed in silence. The sheriff dried the dinnerware and put them in their respective homes; leftovers were placed in Rubbermaid containers and tossed into the freezer for future use.

The shuffling of feet ceased behind Stiles and had the brown eyed teen turning to face his father. "How's your friend doing? Lydia?"

Reluctantly, Stiles kept his father's gaze. "I don't know. I've not had a chance to go visit her since that night. From what I've heard from others at school is she's in some sort of self-induced coma." Shrugging, "We weren't really friends though. She went to the formal with me because Allison asked her too."

"Stiles, she wouldn't have gone if she hadn't seen something in you so don't put yourself down about it." Clasping his son on the shoulder, "She'll wake up eventually and maybe things will be different."

_Or she'll be some kind of werewolf hybrid that goes on a killing spree_, he silently added. "Maybe," he mumbled out load. "I've got homework that needs to be done for tomorrow so I'll be up in my room. Don't pound on my window if you should need me again."

His father's laughter followed him up the stairs and he smiled at the sound. Reaching his room, he walked through the dark portal and closed the door behind him, smile slipping from his features. There was a gentle glow shining in through the window over his desk, the other black. The amber glow was enough for him to move about his room without knocking into the pile of books and stacks of paper that were starting to liter his floor again. Slumping into his computer chair, he turned his attention to his computer screen, squinting as the bright light from the screen hurt his eyes. Groaning, Stiles scrolled through the pages that he had created while asleep. The majority of the pages were an endless procession of 'm's. On the last few pages it switched to 'f's and then back to 'm's. Hitting the ctrl home combination he started rereading his English essay. Thankfully he hadn't deleted any parts of it and when his sleep induced typing started, he highlighted the remaining pages and deleted the text. All that was needed was the closing statement for the essay and then he was finished with this project.

As he grabbed the sheet from the printer and tossed it into his English folder, he simultaneously grabbed his chemistry book from the floor. This was a subject he would rather not do and as he flipped through the pages he felt repulsed by the complete gibberish displayed to him. Most of the text was a bright yellow, occasionally a green or blue as needed to indicate something of great importance. Once he found the chapter that he had left off with he started to read about the different types of chemical bonds that could take place. Only a few sentences in he found himself dozing off and tossed the book back onto the floor, its pages splayed open as it landed binding side up.

Starting to spin in his chair to kill off some time, Stiles halted when he heard the sound of one of his windows trying to be opened. Glancing to his left to look at the one by his wall-mounted bookshelf, his blank state of boredom swiftly swung towards anger. Sliding his chair back and turning to face the window over his desk he shut the blinds there before moving to the other to do the same. Glaring at the eyes searching his face, he moved his hand to close the blinds but stopped as the other spoke.

"Please give me a second chance, Stiles. I know I've been an ass lately."

Scoffing at the other's words, "Lately? Try for the better part of two months!"

The dark-haired head lowered in defeat. "I know. Pretty much since being bitten I've been a horrible friend and I'm sorry."

"Sorry might not cut it Scott. You've tried to kill me one too many times on top of all of this. Not to mention betraying me. The overall shittiness can't be fixed by an apology."

"Then tell me what can!"

The pleading in the other's voice had Stiles wanting to believe that maybe Scott had realized how horrible he had been lately. "Go home Scott. Don't make me have to invest in Mountain Ash too."

Hurt flashed across the dark haired teen's face. "Can we at least talk about what happened last weekend then? Where'd you go?"

"Fine, but don't take this as an invitation to stay all night. You're still as unwelcome as a cockroach." Once again flipping the latch to unlock the window and opening it, he stepped out of the way as Scott slid in. "Close and lock the window behind you. I don't want any more unwanted guests."

Ungracefully collapsing on the surface of his bed, watching the young wolf as he took his customary position on the computer chair, Stiles couldn't help but notice that Scott looked ragged. The usually dark skin had a visible pallor, contrasting with the dark circles under his eyes. His body slumped in the chair making it roll back and stop when it hit the computer desk.

It would have felt like old times between the two except in the past there wouldn't have been a void in the room swallowing up all sound. The chatter between the teens would have already alerted the sheriff to the other teen's presence and have him up the stairs inquiring why he insisted on using the window instead of the door. Instead they were sitting in silence, the dark engulfing them in its calming haze, relaxing in the atmosphere. The arrival of the sheriff outside of the closed bedroom door brought the two out of their minds and back to the present.

Answering his dad through the door and telling him goodnight, he sat up on his bed and fixed a blank stare on Scott. "What'd you want to know?"

Lazily, the dark haired teen looked up at his friend. He rubbed sleep from his eyes as he spoke. "Where'd you disappear too? I couldn't find you in any of our usual spots and I was worried something had happened to you."

"What could have happened? Peter's dead and the only things alive that have threatened me in the past are you, Derek, and Chris Argent." Harsh, but he wanted to get across to Scott that he wasn't going to forgive him easily. "As for where I was, well, I was out in the woods. It's a secluded spot that no one knows about." If Derek hadn't told Scott about it then he wasn't going to give the beta the chance to bug his alpha into telling him where this spot was.

"No details?" A small smirk flared to life on the sleepy face.

"What do you want me to say? That I purposefully went out there to get away from all things supernatural. That I tried to hide my tracks." A fleeting memory of a certain promise flitted through his mind, a quick flash of dread shooting through his system. "That I was about to be cat chow when Doom-and-Gloom showed up to save the day." Damn Scott and his questions. He brought nothing but complications with them.

As the words settled into the young wolf he suddenly sat upright, back ramrod straight and eyes alert. "You were attacked? Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because the cat was dealt with and you didn't need to know." Stiles watched his friend. Being excited and tired didn't seem like a good mix for a new werewolf and Stiles wanted to be ready to deflect Scott if he shifted.

"Didn't need to know? Stiles, we've been friends since our diaper days!" He was breathing heavily and gripping the arms of the chair. "I don't care if I'm dead and you were my executioner, you should still tell me." Taking a deep breath, "Were you hurt?"

"Does it look like I'm hurt?" Stiles knew he didn't show any signs of injury. He had a slight limp from the leg wound, something that would be gone in a few days once the muscle was fully healed, and his forearm was seamless. The only thing that remained from that night was a slight discoloration to the upper part of his lower back. This fact had confused him at first after discovering that not even a scar remained from the slashes. After some research he discovered why that was. The tissue around the slashes was able to heal without a scar because the skin had to re-grow and knit together a new layer of the epidermis. The burn left a discoloration because the new layers of the epidermis were grown from a damaged layer. Werewolf saliva could accelerate the healing process but it couldn't mend already damaged skin.

"You've been hiding it well but when you think no one is watching you limp a little. You weren't doing it before the weekend. Plus, you didn't outright say no so I take it you're trying to skirt telling me a lie."

Stiles wanted to punch the smug look from Scott's face. "Is it a common theme for werewolves to be pains in the asses?" Flopping back down onto the bed, his back smashed into his mattress, "Since I know you won't give up, I was injured. A nasty slash on my right leg, a relatively small cut on my left forearm, and a burn on my back."

Stiles didn't have to be a wolf to sense Scott's confusion. "As for how I'm better, well, that is a response you'll have to get from Derek." Truthfully, he knew how he had been healed, he just didn't want to have to tell Scott that Derek had gone full wolf and licked his wounds clean. Not to mention he didn't want the older werewolf's wrath brought down on him as a result of telling the younger that he was able to completely shift. As far as he knew no one besides himself and Derek knew that he could do it.

Glancing at Scott, Stiles could still see the other's confusion. "Do you get into many fights with fire-breathing cats?"

Stifling a laugh, "No, Scott, it knocked me into my campfire."

A wide grin spread across the wolf's face. "So it wanted to cook you before eating you. I wonder if it was a werecat?"

Launching a pillow into the air, "Shut up!" Settling back into the mattress, Stiles let silence fall. Things were progressing too fast. The awkward feeling when Scott had first entered his room was lifting and he wasn't sure he wanted it too yet. Letting Scott back into his life would inadvertently let the alpha into his life and produce more pressure to accept the pack bond that had bloomed.

Quirking a brow at Scott, he could see that his friend had taken the lull in conversation as a sign that he could fall asleep. Elbow resting on the desk and the accompanying hand propping up his head, Stiles couldn't understand how Scott had fallen asleep in that position. At any given moment his precariously placed elbow could slip off the edge of the desk and send his head smashing into the hard wood. Scott wasn't one to just fall asleep at the drop of a hat either. Many sleepovers had left him with the intimate knowledge that Scott tossed and turned before falling asleep and that he was a secret cuddler. When they were younger it hadn't been so awkward to wake up next to his best friend, both sharing the same pillow and blanket. It had only started to seem weird after puberty hit and certain nightly dreams had made the waking hours uncomfortable in more than one way.

Shaking his head and thinking that his warning to not sleepover had gone unheard by the beta; Stiles took pity on his friend and gently woke him up with a soft shake to his shoulder. Bleary brown eyes blinked a few times before focusing on him. "Come on, Scott." He saw confusion pass through the wolf's eyes and a small smile came to his face. "Get up and move your ass man. You can't stay here all night." He tugged on the tan arm and was relieved when it, and the rest of the body, lifted from the chair. The zombie in his grasp seemed to lean towards the window it had entered from and was tempted to let him walk the few steps it would take for him to make it there but opted for leading him to the side of his bed and pushing the barely conscious wolf onto the mattress. A few moments later he stared down at his friend and inspected his handy work. The comforter was neatly tucked in around the teen, dark hair barely visible under the top edge of the blanket. His second pillow had already been snagged by a sleeping Scott and his one tug to free the puffy object had resulted in a deep-chested growl, so he left it in the tight grasp that it was in.

Snagging his cell phone off of his nightstand, he first made a pit stop at his dad's room to let him know that Scott was spending the night before grabbing a spare blanket and pillow from the hall closet. The couch was the only other place for him to sleep, other than sharing a bed with his werewolf friend or father, both of which was as undesirable as the other.

This was not how he had expected to spend his Tuesday night. Wrestling with his chemistry book, fighting with his essay, and playing with his math had been somewhere at the top of his list but not sprawled across his couch, texting his friend's mother to let her know where her son was, and contemplating the ups and downs of forgiving Scott.

If he accepted Scott back into his life he would have someone to talk to again, a friend that knew about the supernatural world that he could share all his theories with and not be looked at like a complete loon. The energy he spent avoiding Scott could be used helping him learn how to control and use his animal side. The countless hours of research wouldn't be wasted and he would be able to learn more from the wolves.

But if he didn't forgive Scott then he wouldn't have to worry about the pack bond getting closer to him. It was bad enough having one werewolf looking out for him but a second one would drive him insane. Something was telling him that neither of the wolves would let him out of their sights if they had any say in the matter. Plus, if Scott wasn't always hanging out with him then he would not be a target for the Argents or anyone else that wanted to use a human as leverage to get to the werewolves; add to the mix the fact that he wouldn't have to worry about the safety of his one remaining parent being the next victim of Scott's loss of control anymore. Stiles was leaning more towards not accepting Scott back.

And the final thing that could push Stiles in the direction of ignoring Scott for the rest of his life was Derek. The very thought of him had dread shooting through his system. The wolf had threatened him countless times, very rarely acknowledged his existence, was now treating him like a newborn puppy that needed protection, and lastly, the worst thing yet, was the part of a promise to his Mother that he could not take back. If he followed through with the promise that he had made that night to his Mother then he was as sure as dead. And he knew that his death would be drawn out, long and painful. There was no way he could do that. He'd rather have let Peter kill him in the parking garage then face that kind of torture from his nephew.

Yes, this was definitely how he did _not_ want to spend his Tuesday night. Rolling over onto his side, eyes drifting shut, he listened. In the dark of the house, eyes closed against the light emitted by the DVD display, kitchen night-light, and street lamp, his ears slowly started to pick up on the miniscule sounds produced in his house. The kitchen faucet had a slow drip, tiny droplets splashing against the metal sink basin every few minutes. After each drop silence tried to rein but another noise would present itself. With the drop in temperature came the familiar sounds of floorboards groaning and the roof creaking. If he hadn't heard the noises his whole life he would have thought someone was awake in the house. The constant ticking from the hall clock at the top of the stairs drifted down to his ears closely accompanied by the almost imperceptible sounds of his dad's light snoring. Scott, exhausted from whatever it was he did now a days, wasn't tossing in his sleep. He slept in that bed enough times to know how loud the squeaks were that it made each time someone moved on it.

Somewhere outside he heard an owl hoot. Breath rushed out of his lungs in frustration. How was he to choose between his friend and a possible life free of the supernatural? There was still the fact that even if he did end up not forgiving Scott and leaving the werewolves behind, there was no guarantee that he would not be found by others that knew he knew about them, ones less friendly towards humans who knew about them. Not saying that Derek was friendly, but he knew that if the wolf had truly wanted him dead, there had been plenty of chances for him to have acted on those impulses. Some other wolf might not be so keen.

The more he thought of the mess his life had become, the fewer things started to make sense until he was finally asleep. What seemed like a few short minutes to his sleep addled brain, Stiles awoke to the sound of someone in the kitchen. Some sort of pan or skillet was sliding across the burner, metal on metal, making his ears hurt. A light had been turned on, the unusually harsh luminescence blinding through his eyelids. Tossing the blanket further up onto his head and burying his face in his pillow he tried to figure out why his dad would be up at whatever ungodly hour that it was, making something on the stove. His dad very rarely made _anything_.

Bottles clanking against each other told Stiles that the refrigerator door had been opened; whether something was being taken out or placed back on the shelves was a mystery to him. The clanking sounded again, softer than before, accompanied by the quick footsteps of someone walking across the kitchen floor. Things were placed on the counter with a thud, a drawer opened then closed, and six somethings cracked in quick succession, a sizzling sounding after each one.

Before long the smell of cooking eggs drifted to Stiles' nose and he had to rethink about what time it was. If his dad was making eggs then it had to be morning, which would explain why the living room light blinded him so easily. Ungracefully kicking the blankets from his body, he slowly sat up and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. Yup, it was the early morning sun shining through the window and not a lamp. Still rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he made his way to the kitchen and found his father standing over the stove, spatula in hand, and a mess all over the counter.

"This had better be a dream because the last time you were in the kitchen making something we had to call the fire department." Stiles snickered as his dad jumped. He wasn't sure whether he was truly awake though. There really was no other explanation as to why his dad would be making breakfast.

Picking up the spatula that had landed on the stove top and turning to face his son the sheriff spoke, "Would you let that drop? So I made the toast burst into flames. What parent hasn't at some point?" Turning back to the eggs and stirring them, "Besides, we didn't call the fire department. You had already learnt to keep the fire extinguisher close by and had the fire out before I even realized there had been one." As if that settled that matter, the sheriff grabbed one plate off the pile that was next to the stove, scooped scrambled eggs onto it, and shoved it towards Stiles. "Eat it before it gets cold. Scott should be down momentarily."

"You'll never learn, dad," Stiles said, shaking his head. Plate firmly set on the counter, he rummaged through the freezer before coming out with a small box in his hand. Ripping it open and dumping the contents in with the eggs remaining in the skillet, he pushed his dad out of the way. There had to be more than just eggs to make a decent breakfast.


	6. The Unforgiven

"No."

"But?"

"I said, no."

"You didn't eve…"

"No."

"Stiles!"

"NO!"

Scott slouched in the jeep, the top of his head sinking lower than the back of the headrest. For the past five minutes Stiles had been denying the boy. He didn't care if Scott was trying to tell him that Bigfoot was in the back seat having his way with a mermaid and a unicorn drawn pumpkin carriage was following close behind. There was no way Scott was going to get a word in edge wise.

Adding a bit more pressure to the gas pedal, the baby blue Jeep sped off down the road a bit faster than the speed limit suggested. A few minutes later it was pulling into Beacon Hills high school, teenagers already loitering about the property. Parking as close as he could to the school without actually being on the sidewalk, Stiles jumped out of the cab, book bag slung over one shoulder, and made his way towards the double doors that would lead to sweet release. Yes, he was looking forward to Scott being stopped by anyone who wanted to talk to him.

Even before he made it to the blue doors, someone was yelling out Scott's name. Pausing for a brief moment he turned to see the two co-captains facing off. Both were glaring at each other and the urge to rush back to Scott to stop him from doing something stupid flitted across his mind. When, after a few moments, they began talking, Stiles turned back towards the school and pushed through the crowd of students. He had the choice of going to breakfast to wait for the bell to signal that students were to go to their first block class or he could head there now, seeing as how it was also his homeroom.

Opting for homeroom, Stiles made his way down the student infested hallways to get to the English classroom. The paper that he had written the night before was due at the beginning of class, an empty tray placed by the teacher already waiting for its bare frame to be over flowing with essays. As he walked through the classroom door he fished around in his bag until he found the paper and placed it in the tray.

A quick glance around the room told him that he was the first to arrive and gave him pick of any seat he wanted. His usual spot hadn't been open to him for a while because of how Scott and his new friends had taken over the back corner. Smirking, he moved through the desks to the back left corner, setting his things down on the second to last desk next to the window. Stealing a seat may not be a big blow but it was enough for him.

It was like Scott had marked it as his territory and Stiles wanted to steal it from him, make him feel like his space had been invaded. He knew it was childish and petty, but again, it was his only means of getting back at Scott. He didn't have the strength to fight the way that he wanted to. A solid punch to the jaw or abdomen would have been his first choice, but then he'd need a wolf's bane bullet to stop his friend from ripping his head off. Simple fact of life these days. So instead of risking life and limb it was steal seats in classes and ignoring the idiot who had ruined a perfectly good morning.

Jumping as a clawed hand grabbed his shoulder and shook it, a less than manly scream dying in his throat; Stiles clutched his chest as he turned brown eyes to the feminine face in front of him. "Don't sneak up on a guy like that! You about gave me a heart attack!" Settling back into his seat a deep breath set his nerves back into place. "When was the last time you had a manicure?"

Stiles mentally smirked at the obvious confusion on the girls face. She was a friend, one that he bickered and teased with, but a friend all the same. It was their thing. When Allison had showed up on the first day of school they had argued up a blue streak as to why Allison was considered a 'pretty girl' and she herself was not. It lasted till the party, up until Scott had deliriously made his way through the crowded living room and out of the house. They hadn't really talked after that.

"Excuse me?" She was a feisty one. "I didn't know there was something wrong with my nails." She held them in front of Stiles' face, showing off their light purple paint.

Grabbing her hand and bringing it closer to his face, "Oh, there's nothing wrong with them. They're very pretty, reminds me of petunias. Unless you count the fact that you just about skewered my shoulder with them. Other than that, they're perfect." He released her and innocently looked her in the eyes.

They held each other's gazes for a few moments, Harley laughing and Stiles only managing a smile. Her eyes dropped to the floor as his smile slid away. "What's wrong, Stiles? You're not normally this quiet. Not unless you're scheming a diabolical plan. If that's the case please tell me when I need to skip school. I don't want to be caught up in the fall out of this week long scheme."

The hopeful look in her eyes had Stiles forcing a small smile. She was putting in the effort to try and get him to cheer up; picking on his little quirks and poking fun at him. "It's nothing. Don't worry about it."

"Don't worry about it?" she scoffed. "You punched Greg in the nose. That's not nothing." Sitting at the desk behind Stiles', "Are you and Scott fighting? You two aren't attached at the hip anymore."

Dropping his head onto his desk, "You could say that. Things have changed since the beginning of the year. I feel like I don't know him anymore."

"Really? It's been two and a half months since the beginning of the year and you don't think you know your best friend of 15 years anymore? That's gotta be one hell of a change."

Her skeptical tone didn't go un-noticed; he simply chose to ignore it. It wasn't any of her business what was going on. She'd never believe him even if he did tell her the truth, which he wasn't going to do. They were bicker buddies, not open-your-heart-and-share-the-thorns-stuck-in-it buddies. "Like I said, it's nothing to worry about."

An unsettling quietness settled over the two as more of their peers trickled into the room, giving Stiles an excuse not to continue because he didn't want others to overhear their conversation if it took a turn in the wrong direction. He did appreciate that she cared enough to come ask him what was wrong and truly seemed to care about his answer, but he hadn't changed so much that he never talked. If he got too into the topic of what was bothering him the wrong piece of information could slip out and then there'd be another that knew about werewolves and hunters.

A small hand on his brought his attention back to Harley. "Not to alarm you, but why is Jackson Whittemore staring at you?"

"Because he's jealous of my good looks," was his automatic reply. Brown eyes followed her gaze to the door and sure enough the tawny blond was visible through the doorway, someone talking up a storm with him. Jackson's attention wasn't trained on the person talking to him; it was trained on Stiles. "Or that murderous look in his eye could mean that my death is imminent and that you should get away before the blood bath begins."

There was a slight upturn of the corner of the jocks lips and Stiles shook his head to see if he could shake his paranoia away. Jackson had to of been reacting to whatever the person was saying and not his monologue.

"Seriously though, I have no idea why he's so interested in me. It's rather creepy." Jackson still hadn't looked away, maybe not even blinked. The small smirk had faded just as fast as it had appeared and Stiles was sure that he was already starting to lose his mind. More students passed through the door, blocking the two from sight, and when it was clear again Jackson was gone.

Stiles abruptly turned to the window, ignoring Harley's small laugh that she wasn't hiding so well, and stared out it. The vast expanse of pavement was deserted, the occasional straggler running to make in to their classes before the bell sounded for the end of breakfast. Another five minutes after that and the beginning of the first class of the day would start.

"Stiles, you just missed the cutest little pout. Seriously. Scott looked like a kicked puppy."

Glancing to the dark skinned girl then back out the window, "Well, maybe he deserved to be kicked. Maybe he peed on the carpet."

She giggled again. "That's why you keep a spray bottle nearby and sprits him when he does it. Treating him like he shredded your most precious graphic tee is a bit dramatic."

Another laugh burst from the girl as Stiles flailed in his chair as he whipped around to regard her. "Dramatic? Me? The hell I am!"

At his outburst the whole class quieted down to listen. He kept rambling and it wasn't until the teacher cleared his throat that Stiles took notice. Slumping in his chair he ignored his peers' not so quiet snickers.

With the progression of the class, the droning of the teacher, and the lack of interest of what today's lesson had to offer, Stiles found his mind wandering to Scott. The beta had taken a seat on the opposite side of the room, Allison to his left. Stiles could see that he had his cell phone out, fingers flying across the keyboard. When the phone was silently flipped closed he waited for his own to vibrate indicating that he had a new message. Minutes passed and he checked to make sure his was on. It was and there was no message waiting for him. He hadn't noticed Allison checking her cell but when Scott received and sent another he made sure to pay attention to her. It wasn't to her either.

So Scott had really started replacing him. Even with whatever it was that Scott wanted to tell him less than an hour ago, he had been forgotten and was texting someone else during class. He cast his eyes about the room to see if anyone else was the recipient of the messages and came up empty. Someone else was Scott's new best friend and they weren't in this class.

Stiles didn't think he'd be this upset at Scott texting someone else but at the moment that was all he could focus on. It was like he could hear the keys being pressed on the small keyboard, mocking him. A kick to the back of his chair made him jump before a quiet whisper drifted to him.

"Do you miss your puppy?"

The words were meant as a joke but he felt like she had scalded him with hot water. He really didn't want to miss his friend but when your bicker buddy started being nice to you, you know that you've hit an all-time low. He slumped even lower in his seat and plastered his eyes on the teacher, waiting for the bell to ring.

Before he knew it he was sitting in his second class of the day. Mr. Harris was lecturing them on something that he didn't particularly care about. At the present moment he was too stunned to care about anything but the silent conversation that was going on between two people in his class. He hadn't noticed at first but the almost silent clicking of keys on a keyboard caught his attention from the back of the room. The more he tried to ignore it the more it made itself known until he was twisting in his seat to glance back at Scott. His friend was looking down at his desk as if reading the chemistry book that was lying on the table but he never turned the page and his hands were below his desk.

When his friend looked up to the front of the room their eyes met before Stiles abruptly turned away and faced the front of the room again. It wasn't until he heard the clicking coming from another part of the room that he realized that the someone else was in the room.

Casting his eyes about he didn't see anyone else's cell phone but he could still hear the telltale sound of typing. It was coming from in front of him but with Mr. Harris constantly talking he wasn't able to look as thoroughly without having the teacher's wrath brought down. The conversation continued through the class and when it was just about time for the bell to ring Mr. Harris made his way to Jackson's desk. He bent down and said something privately to the jock before heading back to the front of the class and giving out that night's assignment.

As the class was filing out of the room Stiles could hear Danny asking Jackson what Harris had wanted.

"He knew I was texting all during class. He said if he caught me doing it again he'd take my phone and give me detention."

Both boys moved out of Stiles' range of hearing as he paused mid step. Scott was texting Jackson? They hated each other. Yet they had spent the first two classes of the day texting back and forth nonstop. He shook his head to get his thoughts together, pushed away his rising feelings, and made his way to his locker. As he was emptying out its contents and filling it with the things that he would need after lunch, he found the last page of his English report stuck behind his English folder and chemistry book.

Groaning at having to go back to Mr. Curtis and explain about the paper he slammed his locker closed, spun the lock, and trudged down the hall. It wasn't like he had anyone waiting for him at lunch so what was the hurry.

Stiles emerged into the hall after talking with Mr. Curtis to find it deserted. Paying no mind to the silent corridor and taking his time to get back to the rush of the day, he made his way to his locker again, turning the corner to find the small rectangular metal door blocked by Scott. He heaved a sigh at the sight and turned to head back the way he had come.

In the past few weeks avoiding Scott had become a routine and Stiles shook his head as he should have seen this attempted ambush coming. But whereas all the other times he had lost Scott in the bustle of the hallways, lucking out because lacrosse practice demanded the co-captains attention or Allison had dragged her boy toy away, this time there was no distraction for the Beta to get caught in.

With the barest of limps to his gate, Stiles walked as fast as he could, without running, down the hall that would lead to the cafeteria. Nothing but silence followed him but he felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end as he knew Scott was following close behind. Nothing was said as the stalking continued and Stiles was relieved when he turned another corner and the double doors leading into the sunlit room came into view. Only a few more steps and he'd be able to slip away from the annoying pest that wouldn't leave him alone.

Reaching for the door knob to push it open, he jumped as it was pulled open from the other side and was pushed away from the door by Jackson. Shifting to the side to let the jock pass by, Stiles was startled when he was herded back into the hallway and away from the safety the cafeteria would provide. Glaring at the blonde and trying to shove past him, his efforts were met with no success. "What's your problem, Jackson? Let me through."

His statement was ignored as his upper arm was grabbed by Jackson and led back the way he had come. Scott was nowhere in sight. Trying to yank his arm free from the steely trap that it was in, skin twisting in the grip, he stopped struggling. There was no breaking the hold that he was in and he wasn't about to call out to Scott to have him save the day. Being rescued three times in two months was not an option, especially when this was a bully with some hidden agenda and not a life threatening issue.

The short trip through the halls found the two teens standing by the pools. Jackson let Stiles go and roughly pushed him farther into the room and away from the doors. It was eerily quiet as there were no other students around. Footsteps were the only warning that Stiles had to alert him to the others movements. Turning to run as the jock advanced, Stiles ran into Scott. Recoiling from the contact he looked between the two, confused by what was happening.

With a wall in front of him, Jackson to his left, Scott to his right, and a large pool behind him, Stiles literally had nowhere to run. The co-captains had successfully trapped him and he wasn't sure why. If it had just been Scott he would have understood. The boy had been trying to talk to him all week, let alone this morning. Trying to catch him any chance he had. It was only luck that had kept Stiles out of his reach so far. But it wasn't just Scott that had him corned. Jackson, the insane idiot who wanted to be a werewolf, was also blocking his way. There were no lacrosse related reasons for the co-captains to be cornering him for, or at least none that he could think of. He hadn't missed a practice or game since Peter's death and assumed that if it had been about lacrosse then they would have cornered him in the locker room or on the field. The pools were far enough away from wandering lunch students that they could talk in private without being over heard.

As both captains advanced, Stiles backed to the edge of the pool. Something about the way they moved made his mind scream for him to run but he didn't listen. Their movements were too matched, each step mirrored by the other, a shift to the left or right compensated and followed. When one would inhale the other would exhale. It was as if this meeting had been choreographed to the last detail and Stiles had missed the rehearsals.

"Scott? What's going on?" Stiles was trying to think his way through this but as much as he tried no answer was forthcoming as he repeatedly glanced between Scott and Jackson.

It was only after a few feet were separating Scott from Stiles that he spoke up. "You've been avoiding me and I needed to talk to you." A tan hand was placed on Stiles' shoulder and was promptly shrugged off. "Stay and at least listen to me, please?" Sincerity reflected in both the voice and the eyes of the sixteen year old.

Tossing a quick glance at Jackson before turning more of his attention on Scott. "So you brought Jackson into this because you needed help cornering me?" Scoffing, "Since when are you two best friends? Scratch that, I don't really care."

"We're not best friends, Stiles! We get along better but nowhere near that well," Scott all but yelled.

"You could have fooled me," he mumbled under his breath.

For the first time since running into the jock, he spoke up. "And what's that supposed to mean?"

Spinning round to face the gray eyed teen, "It means that you two move like you know what the other is going to do. Like you've been best friends since the third grade. You've been talking more than usual and texting none stop."

Jackson shrugged his shoulders as a response and turned his back on the small group. "Don't let the worm wriggle through your fingers this time Scott because I'm not helping you for a second time." And with that, he was through the doors and gone.

Breathing a little easier now that Jackson was nowhere in sight, Stiles turned back to Scott. "Class is due to start soon so if you want to talk, talk. I'll listen if it means getting you to leave me alone."

The hurt that flashed through the others eyes didn't go unnoticed by Stiles. He was locked onto the dark features, gauging the emotions that flitted about to see if Scott had learnt any more control over the last few weeks. As of yet there was no yellow in the usually dark eyes, no lengthening of the canines, no growth to the facial hair. Everything about Scott shouted human.

"I know I've been an ass, I've not been around like I used to be, and I wanted to say sorry and that you were right. I accepted Derek's offer to teach me like you said I should." The words fell from Scott's mouth in a rush. "I don't blame you for being thoroughly pissed at me. Hell, I'm pissed at me, but don't ignore me. I didn't know he was going to track me down to your place this morning."

Dark eyes moved to brown. Anger was pouring off the smaller teen, coating the air in its tangy scent. His features hard, his stance rigid, the accompanying heartbeat racing through its own rhythm, Stiles continued to glare at the Beta. How could he think that after a few short words that they'd be ok?

A small form of gratification slide through Stiles as Scott jumped when the bell rang. Stiles didn't give him a chance to say anything more as he turned on his heels and left Scott alone with the pools. He didn't want to have to see the hurt in the muddy brown eyes that he associated with his friend or the disappointment in his features when he didn't accept Scott back with open arms.

The rest of Stiles' classes went by in a blur. He halfheartedly took notes and answered questions when called upon. When Allison tried to talk to him in Economics he had given her the cold shoulder and ignored the pained look she had sent him. The last thing that he had to make it through was lacrosse practice and even that he had no heart for today.

All during Economics he had started to lay the foundations of his plan. For most of the beginning of the class he had his head resting on his desk, occasionally groaning out his fake discomfort. After a particularly loud grunt Coach Finstock threw his arms in the air.

"Balinski! Would you kindly stop masturbating in my class?" He could hear the amusement in the coach's voice at calling Stiles out.

The question hadn't exactly been what he was hoping for but he had known the coach long enough to fight back the blush that wanted to creep up his neck. Lolling his head to the side and peering up at the man, he tried to make his voice sound like he was fighting back vomit. "Sorry, stomach ache."

The coach grimaced. "If you get sick, do it in the bathroom. I don't need sympathetic pukers joining in on the fun when you toss your cookies." The stocky man turned back to the board and started his lecture again, pausing briefly to shout out that he could sit on the sidelines and watch the practice today instead of playing.

An hour later he was sitting on the bench watching the rest of the team warm up for practice. Coach was pacing the sidelines, yelling out what to do next and who had to repeat an exercise. Soon the team was split in half, each co-captain manning a team.

It was a brutal battle between the halves, each captain urging their players on, and giving them pointers on how to get around a play. Whenever either captain had the ball the other was always hot on the trail and ready to intercept the throw. As the plays progressed, Stiles' eyes tracking their movements, the two captains seemed to get more aggressive with each other. Slowly the rest of team started to hold back when the ball was passed to a captain. They were constantly trying to knock the ball from the other, full on tackles sending them both to the ground and scrambling to get up. It was as if they had something to prove to the other. Like they were trying to outdo each other and yet they weren't breaking into an all-out brawl like they used to. Their laughter filled the air each time they took each other down, or a whoop was sent into the air when a pass was blocked or intercepted.

It wasn't until Greenburg got between the two, being tackled full force from both sides, that the coach had called the game. He put the co-captains on the same team to see how they worked together.

As the new game started Stiles could already see that the two were silently syncing into the other. They moved separately from the other and yet their actions mirrored the others, working their way across the field and around their opposing team members to get to the goal. When they would pass to each other they never looked to see where the other was, it was like they already knew and tossed the ball trusting that the other would get it. Passing to the rest of the team required a quick glance but the ball was almost always caught, aimed for the net and hitting its mark.

Their coordination trickled down to the rest of the players that were on their team and before long the game consisted of half the team working as one. They moved across the field as a single unit, passing the ball around and darting between each other to confuse and disorient the opposing side.

If Stiles hadn't been sitting on the sidelines watching the change take place he wouldn't have believe anyone that told him about it. Scott and Jackson were clearly still better than the rest but with their help in directing the team everyone had seemed to step up their game.

When the game was 10-0 the coach again called a halt to the game and split everyone up to be paired one on one with another. Jackson had been paired with Danny and Scott with Greenburg but Greenburg still seemed to be out of it from his collision with the captains. Danny was taken from his team and put with another leaving the co-captains to face off against each other.

They raced each other at first, making laps around the field. Stiles expected Jackson to fall behind because they had been playing full force since practice started and he was only human. Scott had his werewolf abilities to help him stay on top of the game. Neither fell behind the other, both running side by side as if it was a daily habit of theirs. After three laps they both grabbed their short sticks. Someone threw a ball to them and it was caught midflight. For a split second they were both still, assessing the other before both took off down the field, tossing the ball back and forth. They darted around the other teams, moved between the flying balls as if they were frozen in time, and sometimes even caught the ball if it got too close before tossing it back to whichever group it belonged to.

When they started to drift towards each other, the distance between the tosses getting shorter and shorter, a crack resounded. Their sticks were locked together, both having gone for a body check. The force that they were exerting to push the other back showed in the straining of their arms, the heaving of their chests. Stiles imagined that he heard the slight crack of a stick but before he could tell both of the captains jumped apart and started a new tactic.

Jackson ran and grabbed his long stick and ran to one end of the field as Scott ran to the other. They eyed each other through their masks and with a quick snap Jackson sent the ball flying across the field. It soared over heads before being caught by Scott. He had run to meet it half way, jumping in the air to get it and landed in a crouch. Jackson was already racing down the field towards Scott when Scott had landed. Without a beat between hitting the ground he was up and running towards Jackson's goal. As he darted right Jackson moved to compensate. When Scott wavered left Jackson moved with him. They kept darting from one side to the other, one falling into step with the other.

When they were a few yards away from each other Scott put on a burst of speed and moved like he was going to dart to the right. He took two steps in that direction before quickly turning and racing past Jackson who had continued on with the move and wasn't prepared for the shift in direction. He slid to a stop and took off after Scott. The beta had gotten a good lead on him but was slowly closing the distance.

He swung out wide to come in from the side and tackled Scott as he was pulling his arm back to let the ball fly. They landed in a heap on the ground, both wrestling to be the first to stand up, before punching each other in the arm. They jogged back towards the benches and realized that the rest of the team had stopped what they had been doing to watch the captains.

"What're you all looking at?" Jackson indignantly asked. "Get back out there!" Everyone snapped out of their stares and made their way back out onto the field.

As the co-captains were drawn back into the game Stiles excused himself with the excuse that his stomach was ready to expel its contents. The coach let him go and he raced back to the locker room. What he had just seen wasn't possible. Jackson and Scott were acting like they had grown up playing lacrosse together. They knew what the other was going to do with a quick glance, their passes were flawless, and they worked with each other like best friends. They had never played like that before, even after Scott had been bitten.

It was all fight and male bravado that had ruled their world before. There wasn't a practice that went by without them getting into some kind of confrontation and now they were all buddy-buddy. Stiles didn't like this change. He had expected them to continue to be rivals.

He had just finished with his shower and was almost completely dressed when the rest of the team filed in, commenting on Jackson's and Scott's performance on the field. He really didn't want to hear about it anymore. Throwing the rest of his belongings on, into his bag, he darted out of the locker room and back onto the field.

The way that Scott seemed to unconsciously be acting around Jackson made Stiles feel like he had truly and finally lost his best friend. That he had finally been replaced. Allison had taken Scott away from him but it never felt like he didn't have Scott in some way. With the new friendship between Jackson and Scott it felt like he had been kicked to the curb like an unwanted pet. He had done most of the kicking but it still hurt that Scott didn't want to fight for their friendship anymore. In the span of a few hours he had gone from cornering him in the pool room, demanding to know what he could do to make Stiles change his mind, to not even sparing him a glance.

Anger coursed through him as he heard footstep behind him. Whirling around to face the person following him he faltered. Pain and fear were clearly visible on the other's face and the snide remark slipped out before he could stop it.

"Did Jackson already get tired of you?" He really hadn't mean for the words to slip out or sound so demeaning and resentful.

Scott looked at him, confusion crossing his features. "What is it with you thinking that Jackson and I are friends? Nothing's changed between us. He's still a jackass."

Scoffing, "Sure he is." He turned away from Scott and paced around in the grass. "Today, on the field, you guys were moving like you'd been playing together for years. Years, Scott, not months. And I don't mean with just the passing of the ball or the way you two move. When you guys were wrestling on the ground, laughing and having a good time, that wasn't the usual behavior between you two." It's like you've replaced me he wanted to tack on but he couldn't get the words out.

He stopped his pacing to regard Scott. The darker teen had his head down, brows furrowed. "Stiles, it's not like he's my friend. We have to learn to work together, for the team and the pack." His head slowly rose and he fixed his dark eyes on Stiles. Amusement pulled at his lips as if he had just realized something. "Did you think I'd replace you? With him?"

Stiles shrugged and looked away. He didn't like what Scott had said about the pack. Why would he need to work with Jackson for the pack? He could understand why for the team.

A finger snapping in his face brought his head up. "Stiles, you being quiet is scaring me."

The sarcasm that seeped through Scott's tone had a smile spread across Stiles' face. He playfully punched Scott in the arm before pushing him away. "Why for the pack? He's not a wolf."

He saw Scott arch a brow at his attempt to deflect answering the question. "What makes you think I'm not part of the pack, Stilinski?"

Stiles jumped when the voice spoke at the same time hands came down on his shoulders. He spun out from under the hands and backed away from Jackson. The blonde was sporting a grin that he hadn't seen before and it sent chills down his spine. Jackson was way too happy.

Ticking the reasons off his fingers, "One, because the last time someone was about to change you they had really been sent to kill you."

"It wasn't his fault, Stiles. Peter was controlling Derek." Scott was quick to defend the new alpha and Stiles shot him a look. Why was Scott defending the person that he hated?

"Two," he continued, "After seeing what the Argent's can do I figured you'd be too scared to want the bite. Three, well, isn't it a pain in the ass having to learn from Scott? He barely knows anything." He was reaching with that last reason, ignoring Scott's indignant cry to watch Jackson laugh.

"Scott is a horrible teacher. He tried once but Derek stopped him before he hurt himself." Another indignant cry sounded from Scott before he launched himself at Jackson.

Both boys tumbled through the grass, their belongings forgotten and tossed to the side. Stiles watched frozen in place as they wrestled each other, trying to pin the other to the ground. In the span of one twist and roll both boys had shifted. Claws barely sunk into flesh, only drawing the smallest amount of blood and healing before more than a single bead could form from the wound. They nipped and clawed at each other until Scott finally pinned Jackson to the ground, one hand holding both of his above his head.

A soft whine sounded from the newer beta and Stiles all but laughed out his hysterics. He had just witnessed two teen werewolves play fight like growing puppies. He imagined Jackson as the runt that had just had its ear bitten and tugged on by the largest pup. It wasn't a sight that computed with his brain. He leaned against the wall of the school and watched as they stood, concern flickering in their gazes as he continued to laugh.

This was too much to take in. Scrambling to his feet he stepped around the two wolves and made his way to his Jeep. As he climbed into the driver side Scott slid into the passenger seat, a goofy smile on his face. Before anyone else could get in he sped out of the parking lot and towards Scott's house.

When the school was far enough behind them Scott started to fidget in his seat. He skipped through the radio stations, not staying on one for more than a few seconds before going to the next station. When he had cycled through them all he turned the radio off and fixed his eyes on the side of Stiles' head.

Glancing out of the corner of his eye, "What, Scott?" He could feel the other teen's eyes boring into his skull. When he didn't get an answer he slapped Scott on the back of the head. "What are you staring at?"

The beta shook his head as if to clear it before turning to look out the window. "I'm trying to figure out when it was that you forgave me."

Stiles tore his eyes from the road and took in Scott's reflection in the window. His eyes were bright with happiness and a smug smile graced his lips. He hadn't realized he had forgiven him. But if he was honest with himself it had been earlier that day when he had first thought that Scott had replaced him with someone else. Even thinking about it made him grimace.

Turning back to face the road, "And what makes you think I have?"

Scott spun in his seat fear dancing in his eyes. "You mean you haven't?" There was no blip in Stiles' heartbeat as he all but denied that he hadn't. "Even after accepting Derek as my Alpha, letting him train me, and trying to be around you more, you've still not forgiven me?"

Stiles wanted to let the beta believe that he hadn't but the raw pain in his voice had Stiles looking at the wolf. "You can be really dense sometimes, Scott." The other's reaction to his words had him pushing Scott off of him and swerving into his own lane. Casting a wary eye in Scott's direction, on the lookout for another hug attack, "Please tell me you've not gone all touchy feely on me?"

Scott's laughter bounced off the interior of the jeep and he gave Stiles' arm the old one-two.


	7. Learning to Breath

A palm running over hair stopping to rub at a tense neck was where Stiles found himself a few days later. Jackson being part of the pack had been a shock to learn but after much thought figured that he was always going to either end up as a werewolf or six feet under. The athletic blond wasn't one to back down from something that he really wanted and this had been a choice already made. It had only been a matter of time until Derek was either convinced or pushed into giving Jackson what he wanted.

From what he had been told by Scott it had only been a matter of being in the right place at the wrong time. The night that everything changed; Derek became the Alpha, Kate was killed, Scott realized he was stuck forever as a werewolf, and Allison came to realize that not everything is good or evil, black or white, but shades of grey, was the night that Jackson had been bitten. He hadn't been told much; just that Jackson had gone back to the Hale house after everyone had left and confronted the new Alpha. The rest was pretty much history.

But what had the brown eyed teen stressing was not the newest werewolf in the pack. No, he had bigger things to worry about. Like the fact that since their drive home from practice three days prior Scott had not left his side. Any and all free time that the dark haired beta had was spent with Stiles. It wouldn't have been a problem except it was getting to be too much Scott time.

That night after forgiving Scott, Stiles had gone to bed early. When he had awoken it was to a dark head of hair lying next to him. The manly shriek that incident had produced was one that Scott was still harassing him for. When it happened again the following day he put his foot down and told Scott to sleep on the floor if he felt like making it a habit of sleep walking to his house and climbing into his bed.

Whenever they were in school Scott made it his priority to sit next to Stiles. Mr. Harris had voiced his dislike of this new development by pointing out that a month and a half break from sitting next to each other wasn't going to change his mind about them sitting in close proximity. The resulting growl and stare down was one that had both Stiles and Jackson scared for the teacher's wellbeing. They had relaxed when Mr. Harris conceded and left the teens where they were.

Even the next day at lunch had been a bit tense. Jackson had sat on one side of Stiles and Allison on the other. When Scott arrived he had pushed Jackson out of the way and effectively off the chair, and sat down in his place. No verbalization had been tossed between the two but the tension in the air had sky rocketed and everyone at the table had paused to see what would happen. Jackson had picked himself up off the ground and was on the verge of pulling back his arm to land a blow on his co-captain when both their heads had shot towards the windows. They had given no explanation but before anyone knew what had happened Jackson had stormed off and Scott was back to eating his food.

And now it was the third morning after letting Scott back into his life. Before going to bed he had set up the air mattress, put a sheet and blankets on it, and then piled it high with pillows. He had hoped that his friend would take the hint but apparently a bed that was just big enough for one was what he wanted.

Groaning and massaging his neck for a few more moments, Stiles rolled away from the other teen that was curled up on his bed. He was thankful that Scott wasn't being as cuddly as he used to be when they were kids. Waking to finding your high school best friend with his arm thrown across your back and head in the crook of your neck was not a way Stiles ever wanted to wake up to Scott. When they were preteens that was an acceptable way to wake but now that they were older it was a bit disturbing. Instead he was lying on his side and his back touching Stiles, or had been when Stiles had been in the bed.

He was in the process of contemplating dropping down onto the air mattress when the figure in his bed stretched, whined, rolled onto his other side and got comfortable in the space that Stiles had just vacated. This was ridiculous!

Snapping a picture of Scott with his phone he quickly typed a message to go with it before hitting send. He read the message again, _Care to explain why your boyfriend is currently sleeping in my bed?_, before placing the phone back on his desk. Maybe she could shed some light as to what was going on with Scott.

He was just about done with folding the blankets that were on the air mattress when his phone went off. He dropped the fabric that had been in his hand and scampered over to the desk and read the message waiting for him.

_First, that is adorable. Second, I don't know! He's been distant since Wednesday night. Said something about trying to make it up to you._

Another groan sounded as he finished reading. _Has he cancelled anything you guys were supposed to do over the past few days? _he typed out and sent.

_Yes_, was the quick reply he got back. So his best friend was trying to smother him with Scott time. Great!

Grabbing a pillow from the air mattress he brought it down on Scott's head. When the figure didn't budge he lifted the marshmallow-y bed artifact and brought it down harder. This time he got a groan as the body in his bed curled into a ball. Bringing the pillow down one more time on Scott's head he was greeted with another growl before he was tackled to the floor.

His first instinct was to scream for help thinking that Scott was even worse of a morning person now that he was a werewolf, but stopped short as he felt the fingers dance across his sides. The noise that came out instead was a mix between a laugh and an indignant cry for help. He laughed and squirmed under the fingers that skittered across his sides. Scott was firmly seated on his stomach preventing him from getting up or rolling away.

He was only released after he started to have a coughing fit from laughing so hard. Glancing to Scott, he gripped his side and took a few deep breaths. It had been _ages_ since he had laughed like that and his sides hurt from it. Pushing up off the floor he went back to the air mattress and grabbed up the sheet that he had been in the process of folding when Allison had texted. "Please tell me this is just a phase you're going through."

"Huh?" Scott was behind him so Stiles couldn't see his face but he could just imagine how his eye brows were drawn together and a slight frown pulled a his lips in confusion.

Shaking his head and laying the now folded sheet with the rest he turned back to Scott. "You sleeping in my bed. Escorting me to the bathroom. Pretty much scaring off people that are sitting next to me. Please tell me this is just a phase or do I have to buy a bigger bed?"

He was half joking half being serious in his inquiry. It was nice having Scott back in his life. They were talking more, goofing off when they could, hanging out none stop, but he didn't want to take Scott away from Allison. She'd end up being in the same boat he had been in. Plus, he wanted to know if the rest of the pack was going to join. If so, he was going to have to put bars on every one of his windows, get mountain ash doors, and possibly rig up a security system that would keep them at bay. One wolf was enough. Two more that didn't like him was beyond unacceptable.

Squeaking springs brought his attention to his bed. "A phase, I think." Stiles watched as Scott heaved a sigh and screwed up his face in concentration. He wanted to say something but the look on Scott's face made him stop; not wanting to distract the beta from what he was trying to figure out.

When Scott didn't immediately say something Stiles dropped to his knees and started letting the air out of the mattress. Watching Scott pull things together in his mind was making him fidgety and with having things to clean up Stiles turned to those. Before he knew it the mattress was completely void of air and stuffed back into its box. The sheets were already resting in his closet and he was rummaging around in his dresser to get a change of clothes for the day when Scott spoke again.

"Don't freak out but I think this is partly the wolf's fault. I don't know how to explain it but it feels like my wanting to prove to you that I'm trying to be different has trickled down to it. It feels weird really. It's like when we're not around each other it's pacing in my head wanting to run to you. I guess when I go to sleep it takes over and makes its way here."

"You want me to _not_ freak out over that! You're wolf usually wants to kill me, Scott. Very few times have you shifted with me around that it has not tried to kill me." Stiles was pacing his carpeted floor, arms flailing as he spoke. "And now you tell me that it has some strange urge to cuddle me?" He plopped down on the bed next to Scott. "First Derek and now you. If Jackson so much as looks at me like he wants to give me a hug I'm bolting from this town."

He laughed at the complete and utter confusion on the puppy like face next to him. "What do you mean 'first Derek and now you'?"

He laughed even harder at the question. "If you ever need a nurse, don't go to Derek." The look of confusion deepened and he had to suppress the laughter that wanted to come out again. "He can be harsh when it comes to wound maintenance but he was good at cleaning and wrapping my injuries last weekend. The healing was _way_ awkward and I'm not even going there with you. Like I said Tuesday night, ask him."

"How does that even explain what you meant by 'first Derek and now you'?"

"It doesn't," Stiles said as he jumped up off the bed laughing, grabbed a change of clothes, and disappeared down the hall.

When he emerged close to half an hour later Scott was still in his room. Upon closer inspection Stiles took note that he was wearing a different set of clothes while dropping his own dirty ones in the hamper. "It's a blessing and a curse that you live two streets over."

He shook his head as his best friend jumped. "How are you a werewolf again? I've seen the change and I've heard the howl, but are you good for anything else?" he playfully nagged.

"Take it up with my Yoda. He neglected my training."

"More like you Skywalker-ed out of it to go for the girl and got caught up in your own war." Again he suppressed a laugh at the sheepish look that crossed Scott's face. "Tell me what it feels like, the wolf."

In all honesty, Stiles was curious about what it felt like to have this new being in the back of your mind. Was the wolf part of the consciousness or its own separate life form? Did it have its own thoughts and feelings? Did the human's emotions govern what the wolf felt? One can only learn so much from books.

Scott was the next information source in line to get answers from. Jackson may be a werewolf now but the likelihood of getting him to answer questions about being a werewolf were as slim as getting a straight answer out of Derek. At least with Scott, Stiles could ask questions, and depending on the answers that he received he could then form a better plan at teaching Scott.

"You want to know what being a werewolf feels like," Scott questioned.

Stiles sat down in his computer chair and gave a nod to Scott's incredulous question. "Of course I want to know. Why wouldn't I want to know?" Annoyance laced the groan Scott produced to Stiles' enthusiastic reply.

"It's, I don't know, weird to think about." Stiles watched as his friend ran a hand through his hair before lying back on the bed, his legs dangling off the foot of it. "The wolf itself doesn't feel like it's separate from me but the instincts aren't mine, you know. Having every sense heightened makes them harder to control."

Scott's words faded away in the quiet room. "So you're saying that you and the wolf are one in the same but it's the new emotions, the gut feelings, which make it harder to control?"

"I think so. I grew up used to knowing what to do when I felt a certain way. Now I have this thing in me changing all that. I want to rip anyone and anything apart that is close to me when I get angry, run for miles when I'm frustrated. Do you know how hard it is to turn away from something that smells good? To turn away from the impulse to bury my face in whatever is producing that scent and breath it in till I've got it memorized?" A heavy exhalation shook the body on the bed. "Most of the time I don't draw on it because I don't want to have to fight it, but when it rears its ugly head without me calling it I can't control it. I don't know how."

Frowning at Scott's admission, Stiles leaned forward in his chair, elbows propped on his knees, hands cradling his head. "I thought you said Derek was teaching you."

"He's teaching Jackson and I how to control the shift. I'm better because of your help but there are different ways to shift other than the full beta form." As if to prove his point both hands raised into the air from the bed, one clawed and the other human, before dropping back beside the prone form. "Did you know that once we get better control over the shift we can limit what actually changes during the shift?

Truthfully, no, Stiles wasn't aware of that. "How is teaching you to control the partial shift going to help you? What you need to be learning is how to control the issues that trigger you to shift. If it's the foreign instincts that are causing it then why isn't he focusing on that?"

Stiles was up in an instant, pacing. Why would Derek agree to help Scott, to train him, and only focus on getting the beta to learn how to control the shift? The tan teen knew what to do to call forth the werewolf power and fully shift and how to then calm the power coursing through his body to revert back to his humanoid self. What could possibly be gained by learning to shift certain parts of the body?

Sure, being able to willingly shift just your fingernails, eyes, or even teeth could be useful at some point in a werewolf's life, but even more useful to a newly bitten should be the ability to control when they shift. You wouldn't teach a child how to run before they know how to stand or how to swim before floating.

As the wiry teen paced the floor a plan started to form in his mind. Spinning on the spot to face Scott, he proclaimed, "Dude! Call Allison and have her meet us at the mall." He flew about his room grabbing up his wallet and keys before pulling Scott by his shirt out of his room and house.

All too soon they were standing at the busy inner entrance to Macy's, Scott glancing every which way for his brunette. "Stiles, I don't see her. Do you?"

The large entrance to Macy's was a small hub of activity. The wide room had chairs spaced around the center of it, creating a rest station for the weary shopper. Most of the chairs were occupied by older men; fathers, husbands, and boyfriends waiting on their companions for the day to come out with their arms full of bags. It was the perfect place to meet since it was the busiest section of the mall, other than the food court but that would defeat the purpose of why they were here in the first place.

Said teen smirked at his ingeniousness. Why would he look for someone that wasn't there? Playing along with the game that he had started he cast his gaze about, taking in the girls that walked by; most looking like they had just stepped out of a magazine for The Gap or Old Navy. He let his eyes trail a few before pointing to a girl that had her back turned to them. Her long hair gently curled into wispy loops. Black boots encased her calves over her tight jeans. A flowing floral blouse hung down over her hips, cinched at her stomach by a wide belt. She was the perfect candidate to use on Scott.

"Scott, there she is." Before the words had fully left his mouth Scott was moving towards the girl. Slowly making his way over to the two, Stiles barely kept from laughing at the disappointment that would no doubt be written on his friends face when he realized that the girl wasn't Allison.

By the time he arrived the girl had shot Scott down and was walking away with her friends. Clasping a hand on a drooping shoulder, "If you were using other senses than just your eyes you would have realized that wasn't her."

Brown eyes blinked at him for a few moments before the confusion bled to an angry sort of understanding. "You knew that wasn't her?"

Stiles only nodded his affirmative.

"Why'd you let me go over to a random girl then? That was totally embarrassing!"

Stiles grinned at his friend. "To teach you a lesson, that's why. Maybe the next time you see someone that resembles someone else you'll be able to tell them apart by using your other senses." Snagging two chairs that were unoccupied, he sat in it and waited for Scott to do the same.

Leaning over to Scott once he had finished looking like a brooding toddler, "She was here, but I told her to wander around so that you could track her." Leaning in even closer so that his whispered words wouldn't be over heard, "If Derek is teaching you how to control the change when you lose control then I'll have to pick up the slack and teach you how to control the issues that are making you lose control. Now sit back and concentrate on Allison's scent. If you can't help but want to bury your face in it then search it out through all the other smells drifting around."

In the processes of leaning back into his chair a hand grabbed the front of his shirt and brought him back to Scott's face. "And what are you going to do if I lose control in the processes of trying to sniff her out?"

Stiles only smiled at the concern. "You make it sound like I don't know what I'm doing." Removing Scott's hand from his shirt and resting against the back of the chair, "She left a trail through the mall at my request. I also told her to double back to make the trail harder to follow and to use this tactic so that she could get close to us without you knowing she was there. If anything happens she'll be right by your side to calm you down."

By the time he was finished with his statement Stiles' eyes were closed as he let the overpowering noise of the mall surround him. The thousands of conversations going on seemed to combine and sooth his mind. It was odd. Having so much noise blaring from all sides made it easier to focus and just relax.

His mind drifted to how they used to come to the mall and hang out. More often than not they'd end up at the arcade after spending an hour or so people watching in the food court while eating. There were just so many different people at malls. It seemed like the only place that a cheerleader, jock, nerd, and an otherwise invisible individual could spend time without seeming out of place. Men and women in business suits rushed about doing shopping in the department stores and jewelry shops. Little kids raced ahead of parents that looked like they were running on empty as they chased down their wayward spawns.

They hadn't come to the mall together in years. He'd been here with Allison and Lydia to get outfits for the Winter Formal but that was different. He had spent the night following Lydia around and helping her with dresses. It was awesome to spend time with her but it lacked the fun that his time with Scott held.

Sighing, he cracked open an eye to see what Scott was doing. The beta hadn't made a sound since he had finished talking. He expected to see a scowl directed in his direction. He expected a punch to the arm and a few curse words thrown at him. He did not expect to see a vacant chair.

Shooting to his feet faster than he thought he could ever move Stiles frantically tossed his gaze around. Sure he believed there was a small risk in doing this kind of experiment at the mall. Sure Allison was somewhere close by to stop anything from happening if Scott lost control. That sure as hell didn't give Scott free range of the mall while using werewolf senses that he himself admitted to not being able to control when tapping into.

He cursed loudly and quickly apologizing to the mother that looked scandalized as she covered her child's ears. Stiles couldn't believe Scott had disappeared on him. Pulling out his phone and sending Allison a heads up that Scott was on his own in the mall he took off down the crowded walkways.

The thought of explaining to Derek why Scott lost control in such a crowded place spurred him into a faster trot. Every dark, shaggy haired person he saw he inspected. Scott was wearing a dark blue, almost black, t-shirt and blue jeans. As brown eyes scanned the mass of people he groaned. Why did it seem like everyone in the world had a wardrobe of dark clothes?

Calling out Scott's name he made his way through crowds of people. A few times he thought he had found Scott but after turning the unsuspecting guys around and noticing their surprised faces he would quickly resume his search. Allison hadn't sent him a text saying that she had found Scott. She hadn't sent him a text at all.

Maybe Scott had found her. Maybe she was too busy playing tonsil hockey to remember she was supposed to text him when Scott found her. Maybe she was busy chasing down a raging beast that shouldn't have been let loose in a busy mall. Stiles' mind threw scenarios out like bead necklaces during Mardi Gras.

Stiles had made almost a full circuit of the mall when he caught a glimpse of someone walking into Dillard's that looked like Scott. A good fifteen or so yards separated him from the entrance to the department store but the resemblance was too much to ignore. Stiles found himself making his way towards the man. He knew it wasn't Scott because the guy had on a gray long sleeve sweater and dark jeans. The man was also a lot older than his teenaged friend. If he didn't know any better he'd say it was a future version of Scott.

Before he had a chance to get to the entrance and follow the guy he was snagged from behind and dragged backwards to a small alcove. Wrestling free from the grip he turned to see who had him.

"What's wrong, Scott?" Something had his friend spooked. He looked like he was on high alert; eyes darting from place to place. His chest was rising and falling fast. There was a small tint of gold to his brown eyes that had Stiles calling Allison and telling her where they were.

As he waited for the brunette to appear he tried to get Scott to calm down. The gold that had only been ringing the outer edges of his pupil's was slowly taking over the brown of his irises. Placing a hand on his friend's chest to keep him in place should he try and bolt revealed that inaudible growls were rumbling around in the werewolf's chest.

Stiles threw a quick glance around the mall to make sure no one was watching as fangs started to peek out from the frowning mouth in front of him. Something really had Scott worked up. Scanning the crowd again he was relieve to see Allison running towards them.

In a few short moments she was pulling Scott into her arms shushing and reassuring him that everything was ok. Stiles couldn't be sure with the eyes because as soon as Allison had wrapped her arms around him they had been closed, but the fangs were gone in a matter of seconds and his heavy breathing was back to normal. It wouldn't have been a surprise if claws had started to sprout from Scott's fingers but he hadn't taken the time to look at them before Allison had arrive and they were normal human nails now as he gripped onto the back of Allison's shirt.

Taking a step back from the two and giving them their space, he turned back to the entrance to Dillard's. His chance to follow the guy and see who he was, or at least get a better look at him, had passed. There was no way he'd be able to track the guy now. There was just something about the guy that felt familiar. Suspecting it was only because he looked like Scott and that he had, at the time, been in a panic to find his friend, shrugged the guy from his mind.

It wasn't long before Scott and Allison walked up beside him. Leading the way back to the food court and the noisiest part of the mall, they sat at a table far enough away from anyone else. When they were all seated and after schooling his features and calming his breathing he turned his brown eyes to Scott. "Care to explain what that was about?"

Scott slid down in his chair. "I don't know. One minute I'm sitting next to you outside Macy's thinking about Allison and how she smells of fresh flowers and winter. The next I'm up and sniffing the air. Her scent was hard to get at first because of everyone that had walked through it but the more I followed it the stronger it became. I was still in control. I think I almost had you," he linked his hand with hers, "too until something else crossed your path."

Whatever or whoever had been in the mall with them really had Scott unnerved. Just the mere mention of it had Scott closing his eyes. His chest rose and fell in irregular patterns until it settled on a shallow pace again. "Whoever it was, whatever it was, I didn't like it. I almost lost it until I saw Stiles close by. Whatever it is doesn't feel safe and even if you don't acknowledge it Stiles, you are pack. I had to get you away from there." Scott took a shaky breath. "I think that's the only reason I didn't lose control."

Scrubbing a hand over his head and down over his face, "Was it human or something else?" That was the biggest question that needed answering. If it was something else, something _other_, then they'd have to call in the big guns. Before he called the older werewolf he wanted to make sure he was needed. If the threat was human then they'd be fine. It was probably just some perfume that Scott reacted badly to.

"It was human. Definitely human but that doesn't change that fact that I didn't like it. The person smelt off." The all too human growl of frustration that left his lips had Stiles quirking an eye brow at his friend. "I don't know how to explain it other than that."

Speaking up for the first time, "Can we leave? I don't want to sit around waiting for whoever this is to waltz by again. They may not mean us harm but we can't be sure. Whatever they were wearing had Scott that upset just by scent." Allison's voice cracked as she spoke.

Stiles grimaced at her. She was right in wanting to flee. They didn't need another episode of Scott losing control because someone who he didn't like the smell of walked by. Especially, if like she pointed out, they were purposefully trying to provoke a werewolf. Just because they were human didn't mean they couldn't be dangerous.

They had seen what a human was capable of doing. Kate had killed countless people for being werewolves and for associating with werewolves. She had shot Derek without provocation. When it suited her she used Allison to hurt Scott who hadn't hurt a single person in the whole Peter fiasco. Chris had used Stiles and Jackson to get to Derek and Scott.

If this new person that had Scott's hackles rising in warning was a hunter sticking around a packed mall with a werewolf was not the smartest move.

Nodding his agreement to Allison and standing from the table, "She's right. We should go."

Walking over to Allison he wrapped her in an awkward hug. This was the first time he'd seen her since he had forgiven Scott. "Thanks for helping out with this. I don't know what would have happened if you weren't here."

He felt her arms wrap around his back. With her head bumping against his he couldn't help but agree with Scott's assessment of her scent. She smelt like a bouquet of flowers fresh from the garden with a light dusting of frost covering them. It was very refreshing.

As she pulled away he stepped back. "Stiles, you're his best friend. Do you think he'd really have lost control with you here with him?" She didn't give him a chance to answer as she rubbed her hand against his head as if to tousle his hair. "With the way he's been lately I should be jealous of you. He's never missed an evening of coming over to my house since we started dating. Now he's spending his nights with you." She cast a wicked smile back at Scott as he squawked.

Stiles laughed at the red suffusing to Scott's skin. "My bed's too small for the two of us so you can gladly have him back. I like waking to a pillow next to me not a breathing human being." Leaning in towards Scott and batting his eyes at the tomato red teen, "You're not my type Scott. I prefer breasts and strawberry blonde hair."

He laughed alongside Allison as they walked towards the Southern exit of the mall. They kept up the light banter to mask the unease that they were hiding just under the surface. When they walked through the doors and into the cool afternoon air, Scott turned to Stiles and gave him a sheepish grin. "Do you mind if I go with Allison? I want to make sure she gets home safe."

Feigning hurt, "And here I thought you were starting to care about me." He rolled his eyes at Scott to let him know that he was clear to go and have a make out session with his girl. "Text me when you both get home. I don't want to spend the rest of my day wondering if you're either ok or massacred along the side of the road."

They parted soon after good byes flew from the three. Stiles was getting into his Jeep when a hand pulled him the rest of the way into his vehicle. Startled at the sudden movement and the unknown person in his car, Stiles made to twist out of the grip. Fingers tightened over his elbow and he tried not to grunt at the pain of bones grinding against each other. His door closed when he was fully inside; his elbow released when it clicked into place.

He was about to yell for help when a slap landed on the back of his head. "Shut up."

His mental walls flew up as soon as Stiles recognized the voice. He had avoided Derek since the weekend. He didn't want to have to face the man and remember the promise he had made on his mother's grave. He had almost forgotten until he had told Scott the story of what had happened. Now that was all that floated around in the back of his mind.

Stiles ignored the annoyed groan at how he was still shielding himself from Derek. "Didn't I tell you to stop doing that?"

A pause lingered between them until Stiles realized that Derek wanted an answer. "You said to stop hiding. I'm not hiding. I'm right here in front of you."

"Smart ass." Stiles ducked under the hand coming to swat the back of his head again. "You learn faster than Scott and Jackson. They still can't predict when I'm about to do that."

Stiles could almost hear the grin in the comment. "A cat could learn faster than them." Twisting in his seat so that he was facing the lycan, drumming his fingers on the headrest, "So, Derek, is there a specific reason you broke into my Jeep?"

It took Derek a bit to answer his question. "I caught your scent out this way and wanted to make sure you weren't going to try and get yourself killed again."

Brown eyes only stared back at him. "That doesn't explain why you are in my Jeep lurking like a creeper in my backseat. " If he had been on his way to Hidden Lake he wouldn't have tried to lose the werewolves at the mall again. Derek had tracked him down once so there was no reason to try for a second time unless he really wanted to be alone.

The minutes ticked by as Stiles waited for an answer. After an extended period of time passed without a word being spoken by either occupant it became apparent that Derek wasn't going to answer. Huffing out his annoyance, "If there wasn't a specific reason then can you please get out?"

There wasn't anything better that he could be doing with his free time but spending it with Derek was on the bottom of his list. The guy had saved his life from a large cat but that didn't make them best buds. With the key in the ignition he brought his baby to life. Casting a glance to his back seat one last time he was about to back out of the parking space when Derek moved.

"Hold up," the dark haired werewolf said. Stiles watched from the rearview mirror as Derek slid over the back seat to the passenger side back door and got out. It looked like he was going to have a blessedly Derek free afternoon after all.

As the back door closed the front opened and his head dropped onto the steering wheel. Lightly beating his forehead against the rim of the wheel, "Seriously," he asked. "Why can't you bother Scott? Or Jackson?"

A hand wrapped around the back of his neck and pulled him away from the object of his abuse. "Because."

Brown eyes flew to hazel. "I know you're all for saying as little as possible but did you just use the one word that most petulant children use?" All he got was a half smirk.

Shaking his head he pulled out of the space and started the drive home. Stiles wanted to take advantage of having Derek in his car and ask him questions but he still didn't fully trust the man. No amount of saving his life and helping out his friends was going to worm the werewolf into his heart. It had slightly thawed towards the wolf but by no means was he going to trust Derek not to hurt him if it would get him what he wanted.

One of the main questions that had been racing through Stiles' mind since his talk with Scott that morning was why wasn't Derek teaching the Beta's how to control the issues that were making them lose control. There had to be something that the Alpha could do to ease his Beta's into being werewolves.

If every person that was ever turned by the bite had to go through this phase then why weren't werewolves a known race. The loss of control and attacking anything that got in a werewolves way or made them angry wasn't something that could be kept hidden for too long. After a while attacks would start to get noticed by police. The sheer violence of being ripped to pieces and shredded by claws would start to form a pattern. The authorities would then start to keep track of the attacks; when they happened, the frequency. They'd see that the majority of the attacks would happen around the full moon with less severe attacks taking place between the lunar cycle. It would only take a matter of time after that for one of the beasts to be caught.

Once that happened it would be all over for the werewolf community. They'd either be rounded up to be tested on or the public would be as biased as the most extreme hunters and want them eradicated. Either way it spelled bad news for any werewolf that was caught.

Since the majority of the world was still ignorant to the lycanthrope population it stood to reason that there was some way for them to learn control soon after being bitten. Maybe Derek didn't know what it was though because he was a born werewolf. Or maybe he was never taught. He was still a teen when the fire happened and a Beta on top of that. If an Alpha was the only one that could turn a human then, seeing as how the Hale family probably didn't suspect a tragic end would kill off the majority of them, he had no reason to learn what being an Alpha needed to do for its pack.

Other questions bounced around in his skull too. If the wolf isn't separate from the human consciousness then why does it seem like it takes over the human mind and body? Why, when Derek was fully shifted into his wolf form, did he act differently? Does a larger pack of werewolves make the Alpha of that pack stronger or is each wolf in the pack affected on a whole?

More recently, another question had popped into Stiles' head. Is there anything that a hunter can do or wear to force a werewolf to lose control or make them shift unwillingly? Whatever had happened in the mall had been weird. Scott had lost control countless times because of his anger. Even after learning to tap into the werewolf power and shift at will he had problems with his anger. This seemed different.

Scott had been on his way to losing control but had kept ahold of it because he had spotted Stiles. In the past that would never had stopped Scott in his anger induced shifts. This time it had spurred Scott into keeping control of the shift and getting Stiles away from whomever was posing the unknown threat. That, over everything Scott had said, made Stiles believe that Scott was telling the truth when he had said that he didn't like the person.

Throughout their friendship they had done a lot of things that were stupid and dangerous. They'd egged each other on countless times when the other seemed afraid. They'd even pushed each other to do some of the things they'd done. But when it came to someone else trying to harm one of them the other would try their damnedest to keep the other safe.

That's what today's incident at the mall had felt like. Scott had sensed danger and that deeply rooted bond had taken hold, made him stronger. He had protected his friend from an enemy they didn't know because that was what they did for each other.

So even though he didn't trust the man sitting next to him, Stiles did what he did best. Ask questions.

"Since you're in my vehicle on your own accord and your life is in no way threatened, you're going to answer some of my questions," he stated as he passed Mountain Meadows Mead. Somehow thinking had turned into a ten minute storm and now the Jeep was roaring down A21 towards Beacon Hills. In no time at all they'd be back in Beacon Hills.

Clearing the frog that had lodged itself in his throat when Derek cast a glare in his direction, Stiles asked, "What's with teaching the kids how to run before walking?"

"Speak an English dialect that doesn't originate in your head." Out of the corner of his eye Stiles noticed the Alpha running a hand over his face, annoyance written on his features.

Sighing and turning off onto a side road, "Why are you teaching Scott and Jackson how to partially shift instead of teaching them how to control what makes them shift?"

"Would you teach a toddler how to ride a bike without training wheels first?"

"No," Stiles answered immediately before pausing. So learning to shift only the fingernails or the canines was equivalent to putting training wheels on a bike. "How does that help them though?"

Stiles caught the tail end of a sigh from Derek. "Learning to control what part of their body shifts makes learning to control the uncontrollable easier. If you're taught how to control a fall before being knocked down, you can control where and which way you land. Same principle applies."

"So," pausing to gather his racing thoughts, "when they eventually lose control again they'll also be able to hide their shift? They'll be even more like loaded guns because they'll still look human while raging on the inside."

"When any werewolf loses control the way a newly bitten does, they shift. The _kids_ will be no different."

The absurdity of having Derek sarcastically call Scott and Jackson 'kids' pulled a snort out of Stiles. He stifled the noise with laughter before getting control of himself. "So you speak Stilesese?" The smirk that contorted his lips wasn't going away.

"Shut it," Derek all but growled out. "And where are you going anyways? Your home is behind us?"

"Home may be behind us but Walker Lake is ahead. If the only thing you can think of to do is bug me and I have nothing to do for the rest of the day, then we are going somewhere other than our houses."

Stiles made sure the road ahead was clear before looking to Derek. "Question number two. If the human and the wolf are one in the same, why does it seem like the wolf takes over the human mind?"

"Do you always ask so many questions?"

A whole ten seconds went by before Stiles could rip his eyes away from the green ones in front of him. "Do you always have to answer a question with a question?"

A sharp sting registered on the back of his head before he realized that Derek had slapped him upside the head again. Stiles could see the amusement playing in Derek's eyes as he glanced at him in his peripheral vision. "Seeing as how I'm driving that doesn't count."

Soon he was pulling into a small turn off alongside the road. Making sure he had his cell phone Stiles emerged from the Jeep and, without waiting for Derek, started along the path towards the lake. It was a small trail surrounded by trees on all sides. The leaves on the trees were a myriad of browns, reds, yellows, and greens, the neutral colors littering the ground beneath his feet.

Glittering light led him to the water's edge. The sun was above the treetops warming the small clearing below. Sitting in the dirt, hugging his legs to his chest, he called out. "Hurry up already! And don't think I've not forgotten you still owe me an answer!"

It wasn't long before a dark clad body stood beside him. "What is it with you and lakes?"

Stiles cocked his head back and to the side to look up at Derek. That sense of curiosity was back in the lycan's voice. "A question for a question I take it?" At the brief nod he continued on. "They're calming."

As Derek realized that was all he was going to offer, Stiles could just make out the older man rolling his eyes. It was amazing how different Derek sometimes seemed. During the Peter rampage he had never shown an ounce of caring around Stiles. He had never seemed to show anything other than hatred or indifference. Scott had told him once that Derek had genuinely seemed to care about them but Stiles had never seen it for himself.

Now Derek was a little more open. His sense of inflicting violence on Stiles seemed to have diminished. Head slaps didn't count as violence. Minimal amounts of joking had joined in with the curiosity that had bloomed in the Alpha. The sarcasm that had been there before had dug in and reared its head when it thought no one was looking.

"It's not so much the wolf taking over as the human mind being suppressed by the wolf's basic instincts."

"How is that not the same thing?" Stiles asked, confused.

A deep sigh sounded from above his head. "Have you ever been scared enough that you've felt that fight or flight reaction?" Stiles gave a small affirmative. "That's not something else's mind taking over your own. That's one of the simplest and oldest forms of survival for any creature. Now take that same idea and apply it to werewolves."

Another question was about to fall from his mouth when a sharp look from Derek had the words dying in his throat. "What were you guys doing at the mall today?"

Brows furrowed, "You want to know what a group of teens were doing at the mall? On a Saturday?" Shaking his head, "If we were a normal bunch of kids you'd not ask," he grumbled. "But if you must know, I was trying to teach Scott how to tap into his wolf abilities without losing control."

"How'd it go?"

Narrowing his eyes at Derek, "Did you follow us? That's called stalking. Not cool."

"Just answer the damn question." Annoyance laced Derek's voice.

Shrugging his shoulder, "It was working fine until something Scott smelt set him on high alert." At the Alpha's harsh look Stiles hastened to continue. "He didn't lose control and shift, the secret is still safe."

"Why do I hear a 'but' in there?"

"Because there is one. He didn't lose control and shift _but_ he was close. Whatever had him on edge didn't feel safe to him and when he saw me he dragged me away. Allison calmed him down soon after that."

The sun was slowly sinking in the sky. Rays of light crept along the ground and up his legs until his face was washed in the warm glow. "Do Scott and Jackson know you can fully change into a wolf?"

"Yes," came the hesitant reply followed by an equally hesitant question. "Why?"

"No reason. I didn't want to let anything slip and reveal a secret if you hadn't told them." Stretching his legs out before him and propping his upper body up with his arms Stiles stated, "Besides, if they learnt it from me and not you they'd probably be hurt that you didn't tell them first."

"Did you tell Scott about what happened last weekend?"

Stiles watched as Derek sat and asked his question. A guy that was dressed in dark clothes and wore leather jackets all year round didn't seem to fit with the surrounding area. He stuck out like a sore thumb amongst all the color in the surrounding trees. "About the attack? Yes. About the healing? No."

Amusement danced in the werewolf's eyes again. "Are you going to?"

If anyone could manage to fall while sitting it was Stiles. His arms gave out at the question; his back slamming into the ground. A pained groan sounded before he flailed at the hand that wrapped around his upper arm. As fast as the hand had appeared it was gone again. Picking himself back up and sitting with his legs crossed, hands in his lap, "What would I tell him? That his Alpha gave his best friend a doggy bath? No way in Hell am I going there."

Stiles scrubbed his hands over his face before rubbing at the small of his back. "I told him to ask you if he really wanted to know."

A soft chuckle rumbled in the chest next to Stiles. "It would seem he doesn't want to know."

They lapsed into a silence that wrapped around the area. Far off in the distance cars could be heard. Birds called from all around. Even the occasional frog would say its piece before hopping into the water. A soft breeze blew in across the glass surface, mixed with the warmth from the sun and sent a shiver running across his bare arms.

A shrill ring tore the serene feeling away. Stiles pulled his cell phone from his pocket. Flipping the screen open he took a moment to process the short message. Showing it to Derek, "Scott wants to meet at the hospital." Looking back at the screen, "And it must be important."

The inquisitive look from Derek had him continuing. "Scott doesn't know how to properly text. He only manages it when he's being serious." Standing and brushing the dirt from his clothes, "Are you going to come and see what he wants?"

Before Derek could say anything other than a groan a second ringtone sounded. Derek checked his and frowned. "Let's go."


	8. The Unknown

It had been close to twenty minutes since Derek and Stiles had entered Lydia's hospital room. Following close behind had been Jackson. Stiles could only assume that Scott had contacted the tawny haired boy for the same reason that he had summoned Derek and Stiles.

Looking to everyone in the room, Stiles heaved a sigh and slumped into his chair. Scott had frozen after Jackson's arrival and hadn't said a word since then. When something was bugging him, he'd bottle it up and let the problem go until he was filled to the brim with issues. It had been a while since they vented to each other and Stiles could see the bottle cracking. As a human teenager, Scott would usually blow his cool at the person that pushed him past his limit. He'd yell and get it all off his chest in one go in the most wordy and confusing way possible. Being that he was now a werewolf, Stiles didn't want to think about what Scott was capable of in one of his tantrums. Not when most of the people in the small hospital room had caused some of his problems or made them worse.

The longer Scott sat frozen in his chair the more restless Allison seemed to grow. As much as Stiles hated to admit it, she was good for him; a calming presence to the volatile nature that he was still trying to cope with. It wasn't long before Allison slowly moved from Lydia's bedside to the chair next to Scott's. The fear that had been clearly visible on her face when they had entered the room was there, just under the surface, but not as prominent. Stiles wasn't sure if she had been afraid of Scott or if he had done something to scare her. As Stiles watched, Allison slid her hand along Scott's arm and weaved their fingers together.

In the barest of movements and with the simplest of changes Scott appeared slightly more relaxed. Stiles wasn't even sure if Scott's shoulders had drooped as he calmed at Allison's touch or if it had been the muscles themselves relaxing.

Stiles' eyes jumped from the couple to Jackson. Where Scott appeared to be stressed, Jackson was distraught. He had backed himself into the corner of the room between Lydia's bed and the windowed wall. His haunted eyes hadn't left Lydia since he had entered the room and Stiles had the sneaking suspicion that this was the first time the jock had come to visit Lydia since Peter's death.

A small thread of anger shot through him at that thought. Jackson should have been here every day making sure she was okay. That she was going to pull through this and come out alive and well and whole. Stiles wasn't stupid enough to pin the blame on Jackson for what happened to Lydia, but he wasn't below thinking it. If Jackson hadn't dumped her in his quest to become a werewolf, she wouldn't have gone looking for him that night at the dance. They would have been in the gym as the center of attention, surrounded by their friends, making fun of everyone else.

Now they were a fractured set.

With Jackson's haunted gaze still fresh in his mind Stiles couldn't look at Lydia without feeling some form of sympathy for the lacrosse co-captain. If he hadn't seen the bite that Peter had left, seen the blood that had spread across her gown and covered the grass, Stiles wouldn't be able to tell you that she had been close to death a month ago. The color had returned to her face, albeit a little paler than usual, but she no longer looked like she had been drained of most of her blood. The dark circles that had ringed her eyes the day that he and Scott had snuck into her room to check the bite were gone. The air tubes that had been affixed to her face removed.

His eyes finally travelled to the last person in the room. Derek had all but assimilated himself into the wall. It didn't matter that the walls were a pastel blue and he was a walking black hole. Derek could pass as a life size 3-D sticker that someone felt the need to plaster onto a wall. Derek's blue eyes briefly met Stiles' as they passed from one person to the next in the room. He was just standing there, ramrod straight, arms hanging loosely at his sides like nothing was wrong. Even without being a werewolf Stiles could feel the tension in the room. Derek should have demanded what was wrong the minute he had stepped into the room. He should have done a lot of things.

Stiles stopped that thought before it had a chance to take hold. There was no need to go down a road that he'd been plenty of times. Heaving a sigh he looked back to Scott. "What's up, buddy? Why'd you call us here?"

Stiles didn't miss Allison's jump at the sound of his voice or the slight shift in Jackson's eyes as he glanced to see who had spoken. Scott didn't seem like he had heard the question directed at him so Stiles repeated it. When he still didn't get a reaction Stiles tossed the box of tissues on the stand next to him and hit Scott square in the head.

Yellow eyes shot to brown as the box was sent flying back towards Stiles' head. He ducked under it and suppressed the smug smile that wanted to slide across his face. "Paying attention yet?"

Scott glared at him, yellow eyes fading to brown. Stiles could see that he was working up a retort and beat him to it. "Now that you're back from Scott-land do you care to tell us why you've brought us here?"

For the life of him Stiles couldn't figure out why. The only thing that he could think of that would bring them all to Lydia's room was that she had finally woken up. A quick glance to her bed was enough to prove that that wasn't the reason.

"It's the same from the mall." Stiles wasn't sure he had heard correctly. Scott's voice was barely audible. "It's the same scent from the mall, Stiles. That person was here."

Derek was across the room before Stiles had a chance to process the information. He was inspecting Lydia's IV bag, arms, and legs. Any skin that was visible really. As he went for the side of her gown Jackson snarled at Derek but the noise died in his throat as Derek met his eyes. From where he was sitting Stiles couldn't tell but he'd bet that they had flashed red in warning. Barely a heartbeat later, Derek was gently removing the bandage that covered the bite wound, replacing it when he was done with his inspection.

What was with the werewolves? None of them were making any sense, Stiles thought. Scott hadn't seemed right since the mall but that was understandable. His freak-out here in the hospital was not. Derek had no qualms against physical contact when it came to bullying people but usually stayed away from any other kinds. Now he was all over Lydia checking for something. Jackson wasn't being his usual self either. It was like they were all on edge for different reasons and Stiles wasn't sure which one to confront about it first.

Allison's soft voice filtered through his mind and he turned to face the brunette. "…are you doing, Derek?"

Stiles mentally rolled his eyes as he figured Derek wouldn't give an answer. The elder wolf never did on most occasions. Though, he had been relatively open at the lake before Scott's mysterious text.

When the minute hand moved one tick on the clock Stiles turned his attention back to Scott. "What do you mean the same scent is here? In this room? On this floor? All over Lydia? You have to give us more than 'it's the same as the mall'."

"I mean," Scott began, staring at Stiles, "that the same scent that set me off at the mall is here in this hospital. It's all over this floor." His eyes closed as a grimace pulled his lips down. "It's strongest here in Lydia's room and around the front desk." When Scott's eyes opened again Stiles could see the pain in them.

Scott didn't have to say any more to Stiles. He understood. Aside from Allison, there was only one other person that Scott cared for above all else. His mother.

Ms. McCall was a nurse here in the hospital. Whether her rotation put her on the second floor or she was assigned to man this section's nurses' station, Stiles didn't know. But Stiles was aware of the fact that half of Scott's worry was for his mother's safety. Peter getting close to Melissa and putting her in danger had wound Scott a little tight when it came to her wellbeing. It was understandable. She was Scott's mom. She was all he had left.

Scrubbing his face with his hands, shooting a quick look at the Void to make sure he was still trying to remain as impassive as ever, Stiles asked, "Scott, can you tell us where this person was? Can you tell us anything about what they were doing in here?"

Scott shook his head briefly before closing his eyes and inhaling deeply. Stiles was on the verge of asking more questions when brown eyes opened slightly yellow. A few more deep inhalations later had the yellow irises almost glowing with their intensity. "Like I said, the person's scent is strongest in here. I'm not sure what he was doing. Just that when I walked in his scent was everywhere. There was the barest hint of blood but, don't they take blood from the patients? Maybe a nurse had been in just before the guy and had taken some."

Stiles mentally shook his head at Scott's innocence. It was like Scott didn't know that there was a bad side to people; that a strange man coming into Lydia's room was the worst that could happen to her. Peter was proof that that wasn't true. Whoever this man was that was setting Scott on edge could have had many different intentions in mind. None of which Stiles wanted to think about but could not stop.

They were lucky that they hadn't come in and found her dead. She was helpless in her current state. Some hunter looking to kill the human abomination that was lying in a coma in the hospital would be an easy mark. If they weren't the sort that didn't followed the Code they'd have no qualms about killing a teenage girl before seeing if she'd turn. As far as they were concerned a person either died or turned after being bitten. To a hunter they'd see that she hadn't turned. Yet. In their mind it would only be a matter of time before she was another beast to put down.

If this man wasn't part of the supernatural world and someone managed to cross their paths twice by mere coincidence, then he could have been here to do anything. Lydia was a beautiful girl. Any man could see that. It took the more deranged ones to want to take advantage of any situation that put something that gorgeous and unattainable in arms reach. The least creepy thing that could have been done was that he had stood in a corner and watched her sleep. The worst could have been that he'd sexually assaulted her.

Cringing, Stiles hoped that the werewolves in the room would have sensed something like that.

"Let's hope that it was a nurse that had taken her blood," was all he could force out. Rising from his chair, "I'll go see where your mom is. Maybe she saw someone come in."

"You shouldn't go alone." Stiles was surprised by the voice that spoke. Derek hadn't said a word since they arrived.

"I'll be fine. You three look to be on high alert as it is. If you were to go out there and something startled you, that little furry secret you're trying to keep quiet won't be such a secret anymore." And it was true. Scott looked a few breaths away from the full Beta shift. Jackson, only with glowing eyes, looked worse off. His hands kept clenching and unclenching, presumably to help with the strain that growing out claws from human fingers put on the bones and tendons. If he sneezed, his taut back had a good chance of snapping in half. And Stiles didn't believe for one second that the small tremors running throughout Jackson's body were from the coldness in the room.

Derek seemed to make an abortive movement when Stiles opened the door to Lydia's room but imperceptibly settled when he realized that Stiles was paying attention to him.

Shaking his head, Stiles closed the door behind him. There were too many issues in that room. Walking up to the nurse's station he patiently waited for the nurse typing away on her computer to finish with what she was doing. She was an older woman, probably in her late forties to early fifties. Her light brown hair was sprinkled with strands of gray and silver.

It didn't take her long to finally look up and give him a tired but content smile. "How may I help you, dear?"

He ducked his head at the endearment. "Can you tell me where I can find nurse McCall? I'm friends with her son and I'm in visiting Lydia Martin and wanted to say hi before I left."

The nurse in front of him, Gloria her name tag read, gave him another small smile. "You just missed her. She said that she had to run home because she forgot she had to pick up Scott. She left in such a rush."

Stiles stomach dropped at Gloria's words. Forcing a smile on his face he spoke on autopilot, "Thank you for the help." He heard her tell him to have a nice day but he was already moving down the hall and towards the stairs.

Before he knew it he was through the lobby and running to his car. If Gloria was right and Ms. McCall had just left, he stood a chance of getting to her before anything happened. If anything was going to happen. Maybe she really was worried that she had to pick Scott up from something. She could have gotten her dates crossed and thought that it was some other day. It wouldn't be the first time that that had happened.

But he wasn't willing to take a chance with his best friend's mother. They were already two for two with this guy showing up around them. Bumping into the same person twice in Beacon Hill's isn't that uncommon. Bumping into the same person twice in the same day in Beacon Hill's is uncommon. The town isn't as big as San Diego but it's no small town tourist trap either. You could go a few days without seeing someone, but it was rare that you could be at the mall in the morning and go clear across town and run into the same person.

If this was a case that his dad was working on, he'd say that this was a coincidence. Stiles didn't want Melissa to be the third run-in that made the man's presence become a pattern. That was the last thing that Stiles wanted to happen.

He picked his pace up once he was outside the building. Having the pack come after him when he wasn't sure something was wrong didn't seem like a really good idea. Especially with Melissa not knowing about the whole supernatural thing. Having three werewolves and a hunter burst into her home was bound to clue her in.

Reaching his car he threw himself in and raced out of the parking lot. Fate seemed to be against him as every light he came to was just turning red. What should have taken him a short while to go from the hospital to the main drag through Beacon Hills took a third longer.

Finally turning onto A21 thoughts of what could be happening to Ms. McCall danced through Stiles' brain. The simplest outcome would be that he'd get to her place and discover that she was berating herself for being so busy and time locked that she had screwed up her days; that she had left work early to go get Scott when she didn't have to. Even finding her at home doing nothing, using Scott as an excuse to get out of work early, would be preferable to some of the darker things that could be going on.

Like finding her torn to shreds by some new creature that decided it wanted to mess with the resident pack. Or the Argent's using her as leverage to get Scott to turn on Derek for good.

Pulling himself from his thoughts, Stiles made the last few turns that took him onto the road that ran in front of the McCall house. Ms. McCall's car was out front. Directly behind her was a black truck. It reminded him enough of the hulking SUVs that the Argent's own that he was out of his seat before he'd realized he'd parked.

Racing to the door he stumbled over his own feet. It was enough of a distraction that his mind needed that he abruptly realized he was panicking. He had to go about this in the right way; find out what the situation was, how to deal with it, and if he needed to call in the troops.

Taking the last few feet to the door a tad slower than before, he pressed his ear up against the door. For a heartbeat he thought that everything was ok. There were no sounds coming from inside. The TV wasn't running, no music was drifting from the kitchen; the distinct sound of the dryer vent from around back wasn't noisily blowing. It was too quiet in his opinion. There was usually some type of sound coming from the McCall household.

As he was about to knock on the door the sound of glass breaking set his nerves on edge. With the sudden crash came the sound of a man's raised voice and the quieter, yet frantic pleas, of Melissa McCall. He quietly made his way inside the house, conscious of each step and which floorboards would announce his presence in the house.

Coming closer and closer to the duo revealed more and more of the conversation; not that he had that hard of a time hearing what was being said, just that he had missed the beginning of it. There was something about 'how could you let him get hurt' and 'now there's no hope of ever getting to know what would have happened'. It didn't make sense. Who was the man referring to? What was he talking about?

Melissa, for her part, seemed to have receded into herself. Where she would normally be voicing what she thought all Stiles could hear from her were half formed pleas to let this mysterious 'he' that the guy was referring to go; to let him be as he wasn't doing anything wrong. She was barely even raising her voice.

There was a hall mirror that faced into the entryway of the kitchen. It wasn't a big mirror but as Stiles crouched down against the connecting wall of the kitchen and hall, he tried to use it to see what was going on in the normally bright room. It took a bit of angling but he finally managed to find the two.

Melissa was backed into the counter, her back to the mirror. She seemed to be sagging into herself; shoulders slumped forward as if giving up. The man, long gray sleeves bunched up at his elbows, was standing in a way that blocked his face from view. Stile tried to see if shifting from left to right would make for a better angle but nothing worked. Whether on purpose or by happy accident the man had found the perfect spot to stand that would prevent anyone in the hall from seeing his reflection.

"Richard, you can't hurt him. He's not done anything wrong." Stiles cringed at the desperate pleading in Ms. McCall's voice.

"He's one of them!" the man shouted. His anger seemed to build the more Melissa spoke. "You were supposed to watch him. Make sure he didn't get into anything."

"What would you have had me do? Keep him locked up his whole life?" Stiles perked up a bit more. Ms. McCall was getting angry now, her voice rising slowly but surely. "You were the one who left us. You could have stayed!"

Blinking and trying to processes this new information, Stiles tried to connect the dots in any other way that led to someone other than Scott. From what his mom was saying, or was hedging around, this man, the guy standing over her in the kitchen, was Scott's dad. And he was here to do something to Scott? What could Scott have done to piss off his dad that much that he'd come back from his self-imposed exile?

"And you could have come with me! You should have come with me. He would have been raised to know how to hunt werewolves, not become one."

"I wanted to keep him safe. What you wer…"

"And how did that work out for you?" Richard spoke over Melissa, disdain and hate dripping from each word. "How did staying in this small town, away from hunters and the people that could protect you and him, help keep him safe?"

Stiles couldn't believe what he was hearing. Scott's dad was a hunter? A werewolf hunter? And Melissa knew what werewolves were and that Scott was one?

The brief thought of having an adult as an ally flitted across his mind before the arguing in the kitchen pulled him back.

"It kept him from crippling asthma attacks and growing up faster than he would have with you.' Training them young' is what you always talked about. He would never have survived. His first hunt would probably have ended with his death."

The sound of a deep breath accompanied the gentle glide of Stiles sliding down the wall. Buzzing reached his ear before he realized what it was. Scrambling for his back pocket he pulled out his phone and checked his messages.

Apparently the pack had finally noticed his absence and had been trying to contact him. Or so Stiles thought as he saw the seven missed calls and 15 texts messages from the pack. Keeping an ear tuned into the goings on in the kitchen he sent a mass text message to everyone stating that he was fine and he'd call them later with an update; that they should all go to the subway station and wait for him.

The last thing he needed was for Scott to show up at home and lose his control because his father was there. He'd get shot more than likely and Stiles couldn't live with himself if that happened. A reply buzzed through his phone a short moment later.

_You have an hour then we're coming for you._

The words screamed 'Derek' but came through on Scott's phone. It was the best Stiles could hope for from the Alpha. Letting him get away with whatever shenanigans they probably thought he was getting into was a milestone.

Sliding his phone back into his pocket Stiles grabbed his keys instead. If he could break up this escalating argument without anyone getting hurt he'd be surprised. There was a chance but only a slim one.

Slowly standing in a crouch he backed down the hallway to the front door. The voices were audible from this distance now and still gradually rising. He had to hurry before a neighbor called the police for a domestic dispute.

Acting like he had just run up to the house, Stiles flung the door open with Scott's name rolling from his lips and pounding up the stairs to his friend's room. By the time he made it back to the stairs to head into the living room a red faced Richard was glaring up the incline. Melissa was just starting to come around the corner, dabbing at her eyes with a tissue.

"Uh..." Stiles verbalized as eloquently as ever. Glancing to Melissa and flashing a small smile, "Hey there Ms. McCall. Is everything ok?"

"Yeah, Stiles. Everything's fine." Stiles fought off a wince at how defeated Melissa sounded. "Were you looking for Scott?"

He nodded in answer with another glance in Richards's direction. "I lost him earlier today at the mall. You know how it goes with him and Allison."

A faint smile graced Melissa's face at the mention of the two love birds. "He's not been home since you picked him up."

"Oh, okay. Would it be cool if I hang around until he finds his way home?" He cast another glance at Richard. The man wasn't looking any calmer. He was still flushed with anger and he seemed to be on the brink of storming up the stairs to throw Stiles out of the house. Half aborted lurches forward and clenching fists signaled his indecision. "I don't want to impose if you're busy."

"It's not a problem." At her words Richard cast Melissa a furious glare. "You know I love having you and the Sheriff over."

If possible, at the mention of the sheriff, Richard turned an even darker shade of red. Stiles watched as he spun on his heel storming to the door and slamming it closed behind him. The window panes flanking the door rattled in their frames.

No one moved until the sound of the hulking truck out front was gone.

"Well that was interesting," Stiles said as he slowly made his way down the steps. Ms. McCall had gone still and blank faced once the threat level had decreased. The look was reminiscent of Derek's blank stares.

Pulling his best friend's mother into a firm hug, Stiles waited out her shock. It took a while and a lot of mumbled reassurance that everything was ok before she finally gave him a quick squeeze and pat on the back.

Pulling away, Melissa fixed him with a hard glint in her eyes. "What were you thinking, Stiles Stilinski?! Never do that again!" She pulled him in for another hug before leading him by the upper arm into the living room.

All but pushing him onto the couch, Stiles exaggerated a flinch when he caught her eye and registered the patented 'Nurse McCall takes no shit' look that was directed at him. "So, uh, surprise?"

There really was no way to explain to someone's parent that their baby boy was now a walking talking wolf-man that could grow epically horrendous sideburns and howl with the best of them. Better just to break it to them. Even if it did seem like they already knew.

"So it's true then? Scott really is a werewolf?" Stiles could feel the grimace pulling at his face when she had to swallow around the word werewolf. All he knew was that Scott's dad was a hunter and that Melissa had been trying to protect her son from the man. But did she used to be a hunter as well? Was she part of the family business or had she gotten out?

Before his mind could get dragged down any farther Stiles was pulled from his thoughts by the couch dipping next to him. Melissa still looked like she was about to go give a particularly uncooperative patient a suppository, but the look was bleeding away into something that resembled fear and concern.

Stiles found that he didn't care if she had been a hunter. Melissa loved her son. She'd do anything for him, had done so in the past just to protect him. "I've got to go meet up with the pack. They'll come find me if I'm not there within the next half hour." He paused, thinking about what to do. "Do you think he'll be back? I can call my dad and let him know that you were threatened by your ex."

Melissa only shook her head before slumping backwards into the couch. Her face dropped into the palms of her hands as her shoulders started to shake. Stiles floundered around for all of a few seconds before he wrapped his arms around her shoulders in another hug. He was beyond uncomfortable, but if this had been his mother he'd have hoped someone was there to comfort her when she was confused and hurting.

She pulled back after a few minutes, sniffling and drying her eyes on her scrubs. "He won't be back but I don't want to be here if he does decide to do something reckless."

Nodding, "So does that mean you want me to call my dad?" Stiles really was hoping that she didn't want to see Scott at the present moment. This situation needed to be handled delicately. Scott was better with his control issues, but he still was prone to losing that control whenever it involved his mom. This would definitely be a time to break the news to him slowly. In a controlled environment. Where his mother was _not_ present for the news breaking.

Stiles groaned as he saw her shake her head. "Stiles Stilinski, if you think for a moment that I don't want to see my son, you are sorely mistaken. Where is he?"

Stiles groaned again as he sunk into the couch. "This isn't going to be pleasant. They're going to kill me." He bemoaned his misfortune of knowing that Ms. McCall was going to follow him if he didn't take her to Scott. "Why must you McCall's make my life more difficult? What'd I ever do to you?"

"You befriended an asthmatic outcast that wouldn't let you go even if you had wanted to leave," she said as she ran her hand across the top of his head. It would have ruffled had his hair been long enough but instead it just felt weird. Melissa slouched down next to him, nudging her elbow into his arm, "Now, where is he?"

With one last dejected yet sarcastic sounding sigh Stiles stood from the couch and took a few paces away from it. Turning to face Melissa, he motioned with his head for her to follow, a quiet 'come on' accompanying the small action. He really wasn't looking forward to seeing how his best friend was going to react to everything. If it was only the fact Ms. McCall knew about werewolves and that Scott was now a member of the Canidae family, that probably wouldn't cause too much of an uproar. It was bound to happen at some point; one of the adults finding out what had been taking place in Beacon Hills. Adding the fact that Scott's dad was back in the picture, a hunter no less, jammed a massive wrench in everything.

The car trip to the station was made in complete silence. Both occupants of the powder blue jeep seemed to be lost in thought as the carriage bounced along. Stiles kept glancing at the clock on his dash, acutely aware of the fact that he was cutting it close on his one hour deadline. Just another wrench to throw into everything. Everyone was probably already in a panic that he had fled the hospital without telling them. With the deadline that Derek had set, only five minutes left and about 10 minutes of driving still ahead, they were most likely gearing up to track him down.

There wasn't much in the way of getting to the station any faster without breaking speeding laws in broad daylight, but Stiles felt like the last 10 minutes of the trip had passed twice as fast as it should have.

Pulling into one of the back slots of the old train station, he swung out of the jeep and leveled a look in at Melissa. "If I asked would you stay in the car?" Her only response was to climb out of the passenger side and walk to the back of his jeep, looking around the place. "Of course you wouldn't."

Stiles led her to a small alcove behind a wall of stacked crates. They were descending the stairs into the main room when Scott appeared at the bottom of the steps.


End file.
